


Bid Time Return

by themonkeycabal



Series: Run 'Verse [21]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 93,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeycabal/pseuds/themonkeycabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”<br/>― L.P. Hartley</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "O, call back yesterday, bid time return."  
> \-- William Shakespeare, _Richard II_
> 
>  
> 
> (Podfic by 10scheherazade01)

Darcy stepped into the lab, stared at the stack of files on her desk, and felt a queasy sinking in her stomach. This was getting to be too much. She glanced at Jane hunched over a computer and felt a little stab of sadness, her lips tipping down into a sorrowful pout. The time was coming, and it was coming sooner than Darcy'd like, where she was going to have to step away. She couldn't manage construction of a SHIELD base, working for Phil, working for Fury, keeping up with the Avengers, and still assist Jane. This was going to be a horrible conversation. 

"Tony's been in here three times. He keeps changing my math." Jane said, not looking up from her work. "Where have you been?"

Darcy shook off her mood and smirked. Wandering over to the whiteboard, she picked up a marker and started doodling a giant robot. "Intentionally leaving you defenseless in the face of my capricious and bored father, obviously."

Jane shot her a dark look over her shoulder. "Don't change my math, either." Darcy rolled her eyes, and shuffled to one side to show Jane she wasn't touching her precious math. "So, where were you?"

"Assisting a super sniper with his AV set-up," Darcy grumbled. 

"Clint again?"

"How hard is it to not touch the freaking cables? It's like, dude, really? You can fly a quinjet, you've got a million trick arrows you've built yourself, and you can't leave the damn HDMI cables alone? What?" She drew a tiny little archer inches from being squished by the giant robot's giant robot foot. "Though, I'm starting to suspect Natasha does it when she's ticked at him. It happens way too often. He can't be that inept, can he?"

Jane snuffled a little laugh. "No comment."

Darcy gave the cartoon archer a speech bubble. "Oh noes," she squeaked in a little voice as she printed the words.

"So, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why are there googly eyes on all our thumb drives?" Jane held up a googly-eyed thumb drive and shook it at Darcy.

"So I know which way is up when I plug them in, duh."

"But googly eyes?"

"They're cute." Jane sighed and gave her a look that landed somewhere between despairing and resigned. Darcy pointed the marker at her. "I make your life brighter and more whimsical, Jane."

"Sure, that's what you do," the other woman muttered. 

Darcy chewed on her lower lip, capped the marker and placed it carefully back in its tray. Then she chickened out. She wasn't ready for this conversation yet. Maybe she could take a little longer. Maybe they could have a just-them night. Some good ol' bonding. "I think we should go out tonight."

That startled a questioning look from Jane and she hesitated, looking back at her computer. "I don't know. I've got a lot of work."

"Come on, it's Friday. Let your hair down," Darcy cajoled, walking over to lean against Jane's desk. "Yard long margarita night at Pablo's."

"Yard long? How does that—"

"I insist we find out. Can you live with never knowing?"

Jane gave her an amused smile and shook her head. "Probably."

"Well, I can't. Come on," she moved from cajoling to wheedling. "For sanity's sake, we have to escape the Tower at least once a week. It's in the rules."

"Whose rules?"

"My rules. Keep up."

Jane leaned back and looked thoughtful, maybe even tempted. Darcy swallowed her victory cheer. "Who else is coming?"

"Just you and me. As in times of old," she pronounced, throwing her arms wide.

"You need to stop taking tips in oratory from Thor."

"He says with my position it's very important for me to be able to speak well in order to inspire others," Darcy told her with a sniff, before dropping her face into a pleading look. "We haven't gone out in forever. Remember how we used to rock Puente Antiguo on Friday nights?"

Jane looked skeptical but she was having a hard time keeping down the little smile on the corners of her mouth. "They had one bar and we usually ended up on the roof of the lab with a bottle of tequila."

"Sure, so it was a scaled back version of rocking, but still, good times," Darcy said with a wistful sigh. 

Jane flicked a finger at Darcy's knee. "I remember being kicked out of the bar when you threw peanuts at Joey Little."

"He was _terrible_ ," Darcy moaned, drawing out the last word until she quite simply ran out of breath. 

"You're the reason they had to put chicken wire around the stage," Jane exclaimed, but there was laughter in her voice.

"They should have put baffle around it instead," Darcy insisted. 

Losing the war against her amusement, Jane laughed. "They really should have."

"Dude sounded like a wounded badger in a tumble dryer," she complained with a wince.

Still laughing, Jane nodded. "Remember his Rolling Stones cover night?"

A full body shudder shook Darcy at the memory. "I can never listen to 'Satisfaction' again."

"Why didn't we ever just sabotage the audio set-up?" The astrophysicist asked, brow drawn down, puzzled by their lack of initiative in vandalism. 

"Because it was all we had," Darcy told her with a quirk of her lips and a solemn nod. 

Jane nodded back, looking wistful herself. "Sometimes I miss it. Not," she hurried to add, "Joey Little, but life was quieter there. I could actually work without wondering if I should be worried about the explosions coming from the lab next door." She glared in exasperation at the wall separating her lab from Bruce's. 

"Only if there's screaming." She considered for a moment then revised, saying, "Well, screaming and _then_ roaring."

"In two weeks we'll be back in London." Jane tapped her fingers on the desk, thinking through the virtues of a night out and staying in to get ready to leave for the UK. Darcy took a deep breath, a tight ball of anxiety and sadness building in her throat, and wondered when, exactly, she'd be able to tell Jane she was leaving her. The other woman had to suspect it was coming, but that didn't make the subject any easier to contemplate or actually put words to. 

Moving quickly, Jane slapped a hand on the desk and nodded. "Let's do it. Let's get out of here for tonight."

"Sweetness," Darcy said with a grin and a snap of her fingers. 

Even resolved, it still took Darcy almost half an hour to chivvy Jane out the door. Once free of the lab, they continued their reminiscence about life in small town New Mexico. Those long gone days before Gods and SHIELD shook their world. 

Strolling through the lobby, low laughter traveling with them, they waved to security, but Darcy's wave faltered when the guard didn't wave back. She turned to look at him more directly and noted his hard, evaluating gaze. Her steps slowed, and she took in the situation in the vast lobby. There were a few office workers leaving, but it was after six on a Friday and most had gone home. Then she spotted the man near the doors, and the nervous shifting of his eyes. 

Reaching out a hand, Darcy grabbed Jane's arm to slow her. 

"What? Darcy?"

Darcy, spine rigid now, was checking the exits, counting heads, and trying to figure out what was going on. Something was very wrong. She pulled on Jane's arm, back away from the doors. Two more men entered the lobby carting a heavy, cardboard box between them. Her eyes met theirs and for a second they all froze in place. Then they dropped the box, and the security guard at the desk shouted, "Hail Hydra!" And the four men dashed for the doors. 

"Jane, run!" Darcy yelled, turning her friend around and shoving her away from the box. 

Jane didn't need telling twice and she was off, but Darcy was a hair too slow. She slipped once on the polished marble floor, nearly falling down before catching herself and lurching forward. There was a loud sizzle, a pop, and then a bright, pearlescent light seeped from the edges of the box, leaking across the floor like a low, toxic fog. The light wrapped around her feet, climbing tendrils up her legs, and she started to fall. Everything went white and then …

A spasm shook her body, arms and legs jerking from the fall. Sitting up, she drew in a gasping breath. "Jane!" And then the pain hit. A wicked, lance of white hot agony through her forehead. She dropped back down onto the bed, pressing the heel of one hand to her temple, and moaned, "Mother fucker."

"I beg your pardon," a woman's voice snapped tartly. 

Darcy forced an eye open and glanced at the blurry shape at the foot of her bed. "Sorry," she mumbled, voice barely more than a whisper and even that felt like a shout. Her head felt like an overripe cantaloupe about to burst. 

"I should say so. I don't even let the men talk like that."

Darcy shifted a little on the bed and then her brain started to function through the haze of pain again. Bed. How? Struggling through her memories, she remembered she was in the lobby of the tower. There were men, a box, Jane running like hell. 

"Where am I?" She asked, trying not to move her head. The sharp, burning pain was fading to dull and mildly smoldering, but it was introducing a boatload of nausea. 

The blurry shape came closer and resolved itself into a woman dressed in an old-fashioned, white nurse's uniform. "You're in the hospital at Pine Camp, New York. Do you remember being here?"

"No," Darcy croaked. Her throat was dry and rough, and getting worse by the second. 

The woman held a glass of water to Darcy's lips. "Small sip." Darcy obeyed and let a trickle of cool water ease the scratch and stick in her throat. 

"You were found out by one of the bunkers off the range two days ago, you've been unconscious since you were brought in. Today is Thursday, September 19th."

"Don't remember." Darcy pressed a hand to her forehead and willed the pounding to subside. It didn't really work and the confusion wasn't helping. She didn't remember getting to Pine Camp, whatever the hell that was, and the last she knew it was a Friday in June. So she was missing more than a couple of days. God, not again. Everybody had to be going ape. "Headache."

"I can see that. I'll get you something for that in a minute," the woman replied in a quiet, gentle tone, and Darcy heard her moving around. "Sit up a little." Darcy groaned but complied and the woman shoved a couple pillows behind her back, propping her up. 

Pressing the back of her wrist against Darcy's forehead, she frowned and drew a glass thermometer out of her apron. She gave it a couple of shakes. 

"I'm Nurse Welker. Can you tell me your name?"

"Darcy Lewis."

Nurse Welker gave her an encouraging smile. "Okay, Miss Lewis, open up." The nurse placed the thermometer under Darcy's tongue and then picked up a metal clipboard from the bedside table. "Lewis, L-e-w-i-s?"

Darcy nodded and made agreeing noises around the thermometer. Nurse Welker made a note, and glanced over her shoulder to a white, round shape on the wall. Darcy assumed it was a clock, but her glasses were as MIA as her memory. 

"You keep that under your tongue. I'm going to go get you some aspirin and give the doctor a call."

She made another little note on the chart, then set the clipboard on its hook at the foot of the bed and left the room. Curious, and still very confused, Darcy pushed herself up and crawled down the bed to grab up the clipboard. Her head swam with that little bit of exertion and it took a moment before she could get her eyes to focus on the words. Nurse Welker had corrected "Jane Doe" to "Darcy Lewis", made a note about the headache and lack of memory, and dated it. September 19th, 1946. 

Darcy set the clipboard back in its place, climbed back against the pillows, stared at the cream colored walls, and laughed. It hurt like hell, but she laughed and then she laughed some more. The thermometer fell out of her mouth with the laughter and she hurriedly shoved it back under her tongue, glancing at the door for the nurse. 

So … 1946. Hydra trick? But, why? Why try to pretend it was 1946? That was weird, even for Hydra.

Sitting back on the pillows, willing her stomach to settle and her head to stop trying to explode, Darcy made an inventory of the room — what she could see of it. There were three other beds like hers, two on each wall — white, metal frames, white sheets, scratchy green blankets, but empty of patients. Between the beds were small side tables of cream colored metal, a metal pitcher and a glass on each. The walls were blank except for the clock. A table and a pair of chairs were set under the window, which was opened a few inches, letting in a warm, humid autumn breeze that stirred the filmy curtains. A tall, thin metal shape stood next to the door, but Darcy couldn't tell if it was a coat rack or an IV stand. And that was it. The nurse had left the door open, but aside from a few distant sounds of voices and walking feet, the hallway beyond was quiet. 

Darcy'd seen enough newsreels and old movies to say that this was a passable imitation of a 1940s hospital room. No monitors, no equipment really, just beds and a maybe IV stand. It was a lot of effort to go through, though. And, really, to what end? 

Nurse Welker returned before Darcy could get too far in her thoughts. She bustled in with a tray and set it on the table, before she walked over to pluck the thermometer from Darcy's mouth, making a note on her chart before turning her attention back to Darcy. "Still a little high, but big improvement on when you were brought in." She smiled at Darcy and tucked away the thermometer. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"A little queasy," Darcy offered.

"Do you feel up to trying to eat something? You ought to have something in your stomach before you take your aspirin. I brought some light soup."

"Sure," Darcy sighed, then remembered her manners and smiled back. "Thank you." If this was a Hydra trick, she thought her best course was to play along while she figured things out. If it wasn't … well, that would be really freaking weird. No harm in being polite, though. 

Nurse Welker pulled a tray table over Darcy's lap and laid out the sorry looking lunch. "Take it slow. You haven't had anything for a few days." She bent down and pulled a metal basin from under the side table and set it next to Darcy. "If you need it."

"Okay."

"Doctor Kovac is on his way. After you've had some of your soup, take the aspirin." She pushed at a little white cup on the tray. "Now, can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you." Then Darcy thought of something. "Or maybe a newspaper? I've missed a couple days, I guess."

"Sure thing, hon. Now, if you need something, I'm at the nurse's station left down the hall." Nurse Welker walked out and Darcy stared at her tray. 

The soup was a thin broth in an unappetizing baby piss yellow with a few soggy looking chunks of carrot and celery, there was a dinner roll next to it, and a big glass of milk. Darcy picked up her spoon with a sigh and took a small mouthful of the soup. It wasn't horrible, mostly just salty chicken broth. She tried to clear the salt with a drink of milk, but almost spit it out. It was thick, creamy, and almost warm. Whole milk. Man, she hadn't had that since she was a little girl at her grandparents' house. Grandpa Jim always preferred his milk thick; she'd never acquired a taste for it. 

She choked down a few spoonfuls of soup, half the glass of milk, and a couple bites from the dry, hard dinner roll, then she popped the aspirin and sat back, hoping it would kick in quickly. Nurse Welker returned with a stack of papers.

"Here you go, Miss Lewis. I found a few magazines for you, too. We can have a radio brought in if you're going to be here for a while." She looked over Darcy's plate and frowned at the half-eaten meal. "You should try to eat a little bit more."

"I took the aspirin, I'm hoping it'll help my head. I'll finish the rest."

"Good." She set the magazines on the side table. "Just outside."

"Yes, ma'am," Darcy said quietly, still fighting back pain and nausea. "Thank you. I really am sorry about the swearing earlier, by the way."

"Never mind," Nurse Welker said with a little laugh. "My sister worked in a factory down in Jersey City. The language she came home with." She fanned herself and rolled her eyes. 

Darcy waited for her to leave before digging through the stack of print. A Saturday Evening Post, a Life, something called Charmed, an Army Times, and a New York Times. They were all dated 1946, though the magazines were a couple months old. They looked authentic. A little worn around the corners, magazines that had been read or thumbed through a few times, but no yellowing on the pages or fading on the cover, and the print was bright and sharp. The newspapers left ink on her fingers. None of that was proof, of course, but after an hour sifting through the pages of each looking for some clue or slip-up, she was forced to conclude they were all genuine, if probably reprints. 

The papers weren't going to be any help. So the question became — why September 19th? What happened on that date that would mean something to Hydra? And what did they think she might know about it? It was a little before her time, and the two people she knew who were alive in 1946 had been on ice in some form or another. Steve and Bucky weren't a source of any sort of info about 1946. She'd been through Howard's archives over the years, and as she recalled it wasn't the best year for him. Stolen Stark tech kept turning up on the blackmarket, but that all came out years ago, and he was cleared of any charges. If there were any residual secrets attached to that, she didn't know them. 

"Miss Lewis?" Darcy lifted her head off the pillows and glanced over at the blurry shape of a man in a white lab coat, with a tan uniform underneath. "I'm Doctor Kovac. How are you feeling?"

"A little better," she said. "I think the food and aspirin helped my headache."

"Glad to hear it." He stepped to the edge of the bed and came more clearly into focus. He had a thin face, heavy creases along his brow and mouth, but he looked friendly, if jowly. He picked up the chart and hummed over it for a second. "You had us worried when you came in. Semi-conscious, spiking a high fever, vomiting."

He walked over to her side and set the chart on the table and pushed the tray table out of the way before picking up her hand, two fingers on her wrist. "That feels better," he nodded as he counted her pulse. "And a little bit of color back in your face." He set her hand down and pulled a stethoscope from his coat pocket. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a listen to your lungs."

"No, that's fine."

"We've had some cases of pneumonia this year," he muttered as he fussed around her for a minute, listening at her chest, then her back. Once done, he stood back with a smile and announced, "You're on the road to recovery, Miss Lewis."

"Thanks," she said, scavenging up a forced smile from somewhere. The word 'Hydra' was on a loop in her head, and every person was probably one of their agents, however nice they might appear. 

"Do you have any medical conditions I ought to know about? Diabetes? Asthma? Any allergies?"

"Nothing, really. Oh, I do wear glasses, though." She would really like it if this weirdness was at least a little bit in focus. The blurriness closed the world around her in a claustrophobic gauze. Would they play along far enough to get her her glasses?

"Hmm. I don't think we found any with you. And, I'm sorry to say the clothes you turned up in were not fit to be saved." He made a note on the chart. "Do you know your prescription?"

"I don't remember."

"That's fine. We can get you down to our optometrist." He made another note then crossed his arms over the chart. "Now, let's talk about what you do remember. You remember your name, and aside from seeing you awake, that's the best news I've had today. I was worried about a brain injury; you had a nasty bump." He pointed to the side of his head over his right ear. "Can you tell me how old you are?"

"Twenty-five."

"Excellent." He wrote that down. "Birthday?"

"November 9th," she told him, leaving out the date. Her brain was too muddled to do the math. 1921, maybe? No, yes? 1920? God, her head hurt, and it wasn't even the headache at this point. This was unbelievably bizarre, but all she could do was wait them out, determined that Hydra would trip up first. 

"Where were you born?"

"San Dimas, California."

"A long way from home," he commented in a bland, conversational tone. 

"I moved to New York a few years ago."

"Who's the President of the United States?"

Darcy raised an eyebrow. Trap number one? "Truman."

He smiled approvingly. "Now, what's the last thing you remember before you woke up here?"

"It was Friday night, I was leaving work and going out to dinner with my friend Jane."

"That answers that question," he told her, sounding like he'd solved a mystery. Lucky him. "You called out for Jane a couple times when we brought you in. You were delirious and gave us a fight," he chuckled dryly. "It took three orderlies to hold you down."

"You didn't find Jane, too, did you?" She asked, unable to keep the desperate pleading out of her voice. Even if this was a Hydra trick, she had to know. 

He shook his head, watching her closely, possibly waiting for some sort of breakdown. "It was just you."

Darcy sighed and rubbed at her head, the ache digging its claws back in, not sure if she was glad about being found alone or not. Did Jane escape that flash of light? Or was she laying unconscious somewhere else? Was she in a dark, cold cell? Or was she --

"You're doing well," Doctor Kovac told her gently. "By my count you're missing six days, is that right?"

"I guess so." Or three months, or 69 years, or who the hell knew. "I don't remember anything past me and Jane leaving work."

"Where was that?"

"Manhattan."

His pen hovered over the chart and he frowned, the creases on his forehead becoming almost comically pronounced. "Manhattan?"

"Yeah, mid-town."

Doctor Kovac's face fell into a grim expression, and he took a moment before saying with careful gentleness, "I want you to know when we brought you in, we did a thorough exam. Except for the bump on your head you were not otherwise physically harmed."

Darcy gave him a startled look, then took a deep breath. A young woman missing for nearly a week, turning up a long way from home, brought up certain concerns, she supposed. And that thought turned her stomach, though she was sure she was only missing the two days she was supposedly unconscious. 

Shaking her head, she hissed at the pain, but felt chagrined for another reason. For just a moment, Darcy found herself falling into the trap of believing her situation. This was all too surreal. Still… "Thank you for telling me. I just … I can't remember anything."

He crossed his arms over the chart again and gave her the sad smile of a man who didn't care for what he knew. But, he didn't know the half of anything, Darcy sighed to herself. Or he knew everything and was a great actor. An evil great actor. Darcy felt her headache stabbing behind her eye as she tried to keep things straight. 

"I suspect you were koshed over the head," the doctor told her, "possibly drugged, that could explain the fever and vomiting. The MPs want to talk to you now that you're awake, but what do you say I give them my report and hold them off for a couple hours? Maybe let you get cleaned up a little?"

Darcy shoved a hand into her lank, greasy hair and smiled. "I would love that."

"I'll send Nurse Welker back, and get you an appointment with the optometrist." He set the chart back on its hook but paused before leaving. "Give yourself some time, Miss Lewis. The human brain is an odd sort of organ. We know very little about it. I've seen fellows lose days, weeks, months even. And then," he snapped his fingers, "one day it all comes back. Don't push yourself too hard to remember. Think of it like a pulled muscle; we want to let it heal up a bit before we start working it."

"Yes, sir."

Nurse Welker came in not long after the doctor left. She had a blue robe over one arm and a small bag in the other hand. "How's a shower sound?"

"Like heaven."

Nurse Welker helped her to her feet. "Take it slow. You're going to be shaky."

"Yeah," Darcy breathed out, wincing at the cold linoleum under her toes and leaned back against the bed while she steadied herself. 

Nurse Welker pulled some tan, thin slippers out of the robe's pocket and dropped them to the ground. Then helped Darcy into them and the robe. "There we go. Now, hold on to my arm and we'll just take our time. Moving around will do you good."

It was a slow walk to the bathroom, but as they went Darcy felt the shakiness ease and by the time they got to the room, she was ready to stand on her own. Nurse Welker handed her the small bag, a thin, scratchy towel, a clean set of pajamas, and then went into a shower stall and started the water, testing the temperature. 

"Okay, you've got soap and a washcloth there," the nurse nodded to the bag. "There's a bench in the stall if you need to sit for a minute. I'll wait right out here; if you need help, you call, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Darcy told her with a small smile. "If I'm about to fall on my ass, I will definitely call."

"Good. I get enough stubborn stupid from my soldiers."

"I know the type," Darcy said and Nurse Welker gave her an approving smile. 

The shower-head spit down hard, stinging pellets of cool water, but it felt glorious anyway, to let it run over her, to let the strangeness wash away for a couple minutes. She grimaced at the bar of soap, there was no shampoo, her hair was going to have tangles on its tangles, but the reward of clean hair was worth it. Fifteen minutes later, feeling about a thousand times more herself, she dried off, wincing as the towel scratched at her skin, and then pulled on the cream pjs. They were a poor fit, particularly across the girls, baggy everywhere else, but they were a damn sight better than an open-backed hospital gown. 

Nurse Welker stood as Darcy came back out, and held out the robe. "You look better."

"I feel better," Darcy agreed, stepping into the robe. The nurse tugged Darcy's hair free and grabbed another towel, giving her head a rough rub. 

"No sense you getting a cold now, on top of everything," she muttered and steered Darcy over to a bench. "You've got pretty hair. Probably drives you batty if it dries wrong. Should I give it a brush for you?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks."

Darcy zoned as the nurse worked on her hair, drawing a brush through it slowly, and massaging in some sort of sweet, floral-scented oil. 

It was time to think of her next move, but Darcy had no idea what that was. Break out in her thin pjs and slippers? Run, try and get to a phone, try and hitch a ride back to Manhattan? She needed more information. She needed to know where she was, what the place looked like, how to run without being caught. This didn't feel quite as threatening as the first time Hydra held her. It was downright low-key. Like it was all _real_. Darcy wasn't up to letting herself play through that scenario yet. But … but what if? There were stranger things in her life. Well, there were things that were equally or nearly as strange in her life. She'd faced off with evil space elves, after all. 

No, no, okay. She was going to need more proof before she bought the time travel thing. But, every option was panic-inducing. She could only go by what she knew, and what she knew was nothing. What was that device the Hydra agents used? What were they hoping it would do? Did it blow up the lobby? Was Jane caught like she was? Or was it worse there? Why grab her again? Why go to all that trouble if they just wanted to grab her? But, maybe grabbing her wasn't the endgame. Maybe she was just in the wrong place, and it was an attack on the Avengers. Were they okay? Her dad and Pepper were there, too, and Bruce, Steve, Sam Wilson. 

God, she was giving herself another headache. 

Nurse Welker finished braiding her hair and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Doctor Kovac set up an appointment with the optometrist. Do you feel up to it?"

"Yeah," Darcy said, coming out of the swirling haze of her thoughts. What she'd really like to do was curl up in a ball somewhere until her head stopped pounding and her stomach stopped lurching and the world made sense again. But, since she wouldn't get that, she'd take being able to see. 

The optometrist ran her through his tests, then gave her a pair of temporary glasses, promising he'd try and get her new glasses by the next morning. The temporary glasses were black, heavy, and had lenses that were probably real glass. They weren't a perfect match for her prescription and a long way from attractive, but that was secondary to being able to see clearly again. The world didn't make a lot more sense, but the details came in fairly sharp. As Nurse Welker walked her back to her room, they passed the nurses' station, Darcy took in the line of heavy, wood filing cabinets, the enormous, black rotary phone, and the metal fan mounted in a bracket up by the ceiling, rattling away as it pushed warm air around the hall. There was a map of the floor on the wall and a calendar open to September 1946. There were two other nurses there, and they looked up and smiled as Darcy and Nurse Welker walked by. 

"Dr. Kovac said to call in the MPs if you were feeling up to it." She gave Darcy a critical once over. "But, I can hold them off for another hour or two if you need."

"No," Darcy said with a sigh. There was no avoiding this interrogation. "I'd like to know what happened." 

"If you're sure," the nurse murmured, and turned them left down the hall instead of right into Darcy's room. 

"I don't suppose there are any other clothes for me to wear, huh?" She tugged the robe tighter, feeling vulnerable in the pjs. "The doctor said mine were pretty bad."

Nurse Welker's face fell into an apologetic frown. "Sorry, hon. I'll talk to the supply officer, and see what we can find for you." Opening the door to a small office, the woman waved Darcy in. "If they get fresh with you, just give a holler. I'll be right outside." 

Darcy nodded and stepped forward as the nurse shut the door behind her. The room was as bare of decoration as the rest of the hospital, but there was a table, four chairs, a sideboard and a small window. Glancing out the window, Darcy got her first real look at where she was. She was on the third floor, a parking lot sat below her, half full of vintage military vehicles and 1940s civilian cars. A couple officers were talking at the edge of the lot, their uniforms also 40s-era. This was a lot of work to go to just to mess with her head.

Taking one of the chairs facing the door, she tapped her fingers on the worn wood of the table and waited for her interrogators. 

A few minutes later the door opened and a pair of grim-faced men stepped in. They wore black MP armbands and had prominently displayed sidearms. The older of the pair, dark-haired, in his early thirties, with a hard square face, nodded at her. "Miss Lewis?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm Lt. Gordon. This is Sgt. Reilly." The Sergeant was in his early twenties at most, he'd probably missed the war by inches. He was a bruiser, tall and broad, but he had an all-American sweetness to his expression. He was almost a mini-Steve. 

"Gentlemen. It's nice to meet you. Did you find me?" Darcy asked, trying to sound pleasant and innocent. Whatever this was, being confrontational right now, when she had no information, wasn't going to get her very far. 

"I did, ma'am," Sgt. Reilly said. "It's nice to see you up and about. You gave us a scare; we were afraid you were dead for a minute."

"Thanks for helping me."

Reilly nodded and gave her a tiny smile. "Glad to be of service, ma'am."

The Lieutenant cleared his throat, not in the mood for chit-chat, and took a seat across from Darcy. The Sergeant followed his lead and they both stared back at Darcy for a moment. 

"Do you know how you got here?" Gordon asked, taking a notebook and pencil out of his jacket. 

"I don't even know exactly where I am. The Nurse said Pine Camp, but I don't know where that is."

"Upstate New York, Watertown." 

Darcy rubbed at her forehead and tried to think. What military base was in upstate? Ft. Drum. So … the name Pine Camp was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on why. The old name for Ft. Drum, maybe? The details of this game kept getting more and more, well, detailed. 

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "The last thing I remember was leaving work Friday."

"Where was that?"

"Manhattan."

"Do you remember where you were going?"

"Just out to dinner with my friend. Last I remember, we hadn't even left the building yet. We were in the lobby. Then … I don't know. There was a flash of light, and I woke up here."

"And where do you work?"

Darcy'd been waiting for that, and she didn't have a good answer. Should she claim Stark Industries? Would they check? Would it matter if they did? No, wait, she was getting caught in the 1940s thing again. This wasn't real. What did it matter? "Stark Industries."

"What do you do there?"

"I'm a lab assistant."

Gordon nodded and wrote that down. "We'll check the Manhattan wires for police reports."

"Okay."

He looked up then and tapped his pencil on the page. "You understand you were in a restricted area."

"I was told I was, but I don't know why I would be."

"It's heavily guarded," the lieutenant said with an accusatory bite to his tone.

"I don't know what to tell you," Darcy shrugged. "The doctor thinks I was drugged."

"We have his report." His lip twisted into a sour frown, like he resented the report and everything it said. "Were you engaged in acts of espionage?"

"Was I what?" Darcy blinked at the suddenness of the question, then she laughed a little. Of all the eras to mysteriously wake in, it would have to be right at the beginning of Cold War paranoia. "Wow. Getting right to the point."

"It was a highly restricted, very secure area," he repeated, pressing at her with a hard, cold-eyed gaze. 

"So you said. No, I was not engaged in acts of espionage," she replied as clearly and firmly as she could. 

"Where are you from, Miss Lewis? Your hometown."

"How is that relevant?"

"Just answer the question," he snapped. 

"San Dimas, California."

"And you work now in Manhattan?"

"Yes."

"And you live where?"

"Brooklyn."

"Is anybody missing you? Husband? Family? Your boss?"

"I … uh, I don't know."

"Why is that? If nothing else, when you didn't show up for work Monday morning, somebody must have wondered."

Darcy rolled her eyes and pulled the heavy glasses off her face. She was tired. So tired. None of this made sense, and she was too tired, too off her game, to successfully weasel out of this interrogation. She could stall, be obnoxiously obfuscatory, but she'd already noticed a pattern in every question she was asked — they all came back around to her. Was this Hydra's way of trying to figure out who she was? Still, this was so bizarrely elaborate she couldn't wrap her head around the why. 

And then she had an idea. If this was a trick, they'd never be able to follow through on her idea, if this was real … well, she'd deal with that when she had to. 

"You know what?" She said. "I've got an idea. It's probably a horrible idea, but I do that every now and then, and it usually works out. Sort of." She pointed to the Lieutenant's pad and pencil. "Can I borrow that for a second?"

He stiffened and gave her a narrow-eyed look. "What for?"

"To write a message to somebody. It might answer a lot of our questions."

The Sergeant shifted in his chair, and glanced side-ways at the Lieutenant, waiting for his reaction. Darcy was getting the idea that the lieutenant was an irritating hardass. Gordon frowned but eventually his curiosity won out, and he ripped a page from his pad and slid it and the pencil over to her. 

Now, what was the right message? It had to be exactly right, enough to catch his attention and enough to hold it, without being too suspicious. Chewing on her lip, she stared at the blank page, willing the right thing to appear in her muddled head, and tried to remember what he was working on now. Tried to think of anything that might be enough to catch the eye of a famous genius. 

Shaking her head, taking a stab in the dark, she started to scribble her note. "I don't remember when — never mind," she muttered to herself as she worked. When she'd filled the page, she folded it in half and slid it and the pencil back over to Gordon. "Get that to Howard Stark and tell him I need to talk to him. Then maybe we can figure out what happened to me."

"You want me to pass a note to your boss?" He scoffed, a tinge of disdain in his words, but if that was directed at her or Howard, she couldn't be sure. 

"Please," she pleaded. 

Gordon looked at her with dark suspicion and opened the page. The Sergeant leaned over a little to see, then he turned back to her looking puzzled and considering. Gordon shook the page at her. "Is this code?"

"It's math. It will make sense to him. I hope."

"I don't exactly know Howard Stark."

"I'm sure you know somebody who knows somebody who can get that to him. Please. I don't know what happened, I don't understand." She heard her voice crack, the confusion and the exhaustion overwhelming her at last. 

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Sgt. Reilly asked, sounding worried. 

"I've had a headache since I woke up, is all," she said raising hand to her eyes, trying to wipe away and hide, in the weariness of the gesture, the first prickling sting of frustrated tears. Now was not the time to appear weak. 

"Don't worry, ma'am. We'll figure it out," he told her bracingly. 

The Lieutenant stood abruptly and tucked the paper in his breast pocket. "We'll try and get this to Stark. You're not to leave this hospital without escort. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He gave her a brusque nod and turned to leave, the Sergeant scrambling out of his chair to keep up. 

"Good-bye, Miss Lewis," the younger soldier said with a salute and a smile as he disappeared out the door. 

Nurse Welker stepped back into the room after the men had left, tossing a glare over her shoulder at their retreating figures. "They didn't work you over too much, did they?" 

Darcy rubbed at her forehead again and put the glasses back on. "No. Just some questions. I don't think Lt. Gordon liked my answers much."

"Doctor Kovac told them not to push. If they —"

"It was fine." Darcy cut her off, standing slowly and walking over to the door, ready to go back to her room and sleep for a year. "Gordon just thinks I'm a spy. You know how it is; end up unconscious next to secret buildings and suddenly everybody thinks you're up to something."

Nurse Welker looked like she wasn't sure if that was a joke or not. She settled for being miffed. "The nerve of that man."

"I don't blame him," Darcy admitted. "What else would anybody think?"

The Nurse took her arm and guided her back down the hall. "Well, anybody who could use their brain and their eyes can see you've been sick. And Doctor Kovac's report made it clear he didn't think you were here of your own free will."

"Then how did I get here?" Darcy exclaimed, frustration boiling over. "I don't even—"

"Hey now, honey." Nurse Welker gave her arm a light shake. "You're tired, you need to rest. Things will look better once you're feeling more yourself."

"Sure. If I go to sleep will I wake up in my own bed?" Darcy asked, not able to keep the caustic dryness out of her tone. 

"If it'll help you sleep, we'll both hope for that," Nurse Welker told her, Darcy's temper bouncing off her, unheeded. 

"Yes, ma'am," she muttered as Nurse Welker tucked her back into bed and stepped back. 

"Sleep. You've had a long afternoon. I'll go talk to the supply officer while you're resting. We'll see if we can't get you some clothes and maybe some proper undergarments. That'll feel better, won't it?"

"I … yeah. Thank you," Darcy pulled off the glasses and dropped them on the bedside table, then leaned back against her thin pillow to stare up at the ceiling. As exhausted as she was, she didn't think she'd sleep, there was too much in her head, too many questions plaguing her. Sleep had its own ideas, though, and five minutes later, it pulled her down into its gentle grasp.


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy woke to a room draped in long, blue shadows and lit by pale, orange light seeping through the breezy curtains. Disoriented, she sat up and tried to remember where she was and why. For a long minute nothing made sense, and then the memory trickled back, and while nothing made much more sense — Hydra's 1946 game — she felt steadier. Reaching for the glasses on the bedside table, she put them on and squinted across the dim room towards the clock on the wall. 6:20. Rubbing her face she tried to decide if it was morning or evening. She felt groggy, out of it, like she'd had a long nap, rather than a full-night's sleep. So, maybe evening? 

Sliding off the bed, she flinched at the cold linoleum, and walked over to the window, pushing the curtain aside and peering out, hoping for a clue. Her window looked out over a neatly clipped green, down a gentle, sloping hill towards a small valley and a wooded hill beyond. Below her were gravel paths, some bushes, small trees, and a few people out. Men in pjs and robes, white -clad nurses. 

With a sigh, she let the curtain drop and sat down in one of the chairs at the table under the window. This was highly elaborate for a hoax or trick by Hydra. Maybe it was time to start thinking seriously about 1946. God, that was hard to wrap her head around — there was weird and then there was inexplicable. 

But, okay, so if she was back in 1946, the question became 'how'? Obviously the box Hydra had at the Tower; whatever that light was. Special magic time travel light? Darcy didn't think sending her back in time was what Hydra was hoping for with the box. But Hydra'd been stomped on pretty thoroughly by Coulson's team and the Avengers. Their best and brightest were either dead or in prison or in deep, deep hiding. Which meant the men who attacked the Tower were _not_ the best and brightest. Not that that was a surprise. Who runs into the Tower, shouts 'Hail Hydra' and runs away again, like some sort of demented version of ring-and-run? Not the sharpest knives in the bad guy armory. 

Voices outside her door drew her attention from her thoughts, and she huffed, irritated at the intrusion. A deep voice, probably male, and a lighter female one. It sounded like an argument, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. The door opened a crack and Nurse Welker slipped through. It took her a second to find Darcy in the dim light. 

"Good, you're awake." She tipped an armload of packages onto the foot of Darcy's bed. "Why are you sitting in the dark?" She came over and put her wrist to Darcy's forehead. "No fever. Is your head still hurting?"

"No," she said, relieved to realize that was true. "I was just thinking; I didn't realize it got dark."

"Hmm." The nurse pressed the light switch, and Darcy flinched away from the sudden brightness. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Darcy nodded towards the door and the voices still arguing. "What's going on?"

"Lord," Nurse Welker sighed. "Doctor Kovac told them to wait until tomorrow, but they came up anyway."

"Who?" Darcy pressed. 

"SSR agents."

"SSR?"

"That bunker you were found out by is theirs. Some sort of storage. I don't know. It's all top secret." The nurse looked aggravated as she pawed through the brown-wrapped packages she'd brought. "I found you a uniform. It'll do for tonight, and tomorrow some of the other girls and I are going to bring you some proper clothes from home."

"You don't have to do that," Darcy murmured. The show of generosity nipped at her heart, and she felt uncomfortable and ashamed. She'd been assuming everybody around her was Hydra, but if she really was back in 1946, then she'd been looking at good people like they were evil. Good people who were doing their best to help her. 

"We want to," Nurse Welker waved her off and pulled a tan blouse out of one package. "Betty ran to town and got you some undergarments, too."

"I'll pay you back." Somehow. If she was back in 1946, and she could get to Howard, and she could convince him to help her, then she'd get him to pay them back. Maybe. Well, she'd pick his pocket if she had to. That wasn't theft, that was spending her inheritance. 

"Nonsense. Doctor Kovac took it out of the discretionary fund." The nurse turned to her and raised her eyebrow. "Now, those agents want to talk to you, and I say we get you dressed up right and you give them a good what for. I don't know why on Earth they couldn't wait and let you get a decent night's sleep. And how come nobody's trying to find the people that did this to you? It's not right, is what it is."

Chuckling softly, Darcy stood up to look over the packages and observed, "You seem more anxious about this than I am."

Nurse Welker huffed and scowled. "They were going to come right into your room. The nerve."

Darcy raised an eyebrow, amused and touched by the outrage on her behalf. "Thank you for looking after me."

"Well, you need a bit of caring." Nurse Welker gave her a sharp nod and started pulling the rest of the uniform out. "Let's do up your hair and get you dressed."

Half an hour, and an unexpected adventure with the bras and hosiery of the era, later, Nurse Welker was tugging Darcy's jacket into place and smoothing the tie. "There," she said, satisfied, situating the collar. "That fits a treat. Suits you, too. Did you serve?"

"No." Darcy moved a little in the new clothes and odd undergarments. The jacket was a little tight across the chest, and the arms a little long, but all in all it wasn't bad. The part of her that had always had a fascination with the 40s sent up an excited cheer. She needed to find a mirror so she could see how awesome she looked in the uniform. It was a damn sight better than the PJs, for sure, and she felt more together, more herself. She glanced up and Nurse Welker had a puzzled little frown on her face. "I worked at a defense contractor, though," she explained. 

"Ah, I see," the woman said slowly, like something about Darcy's statement made sense and didn't at the same time, and she couldn't figure out why. "Shoes. I've got some hose to stuff in the toes if they're a little big."

"Thank you for all your help, ma'am," Darcy told her with a smile as she stepped into the sensible, black heels. They pinched at the sides a little but seemed to fit pretty well otherwise. 

"You just go ahead and call me Doris." She stepped back and looked Darcy over, picking a piece of lint off her jacket and circling her to check the plaited bun in which she'd twisted Darcy's hair. "You look ready to meet the General." 

Darcy laughed. "Gee, I hope not. That would mean I'm really in trouble."

Doris raised her eyebrow and gave her a look, half thoughtful, have challenging. "I think you could handle it just fine. I don't think I could be so calm if I went through everything you have."

"I don't know," Darcy shrugged. "I think you'd sort it out quick. You've got to be pretty nervy to be an Army nurse."

"I guess you do," she admitted with a modest and pleased smile. "Just wait here a minute and I'll go talk to Doctor Kovac."

The argument had moved away from the door some time before, and Darcy only had to cool her heels for a moment before Nurse Welker returned and led her back to the office she'd met the MPs in earlier. 

Darcy stepped into the room, Doris giving her a pat on the shoulder before shutting the door behind her. Standing by the table was a dark-haired, square-jawed man leaning heavily on a crutch, and a brunette woman looking out the window, her back to the room. Both agents shifted when she entered and Darcy nodded at the man then turned her head to greet the woman. Surreality punched her right square in the brain; if she hadn't been frozen in shock, she would have staggered with the blow. 

Peggy Carter was giving her an evaluating look. "Miss Lewis? I'm Agent Carter, this is Agent Sousa."

Darcy nodded jerkily and struggled to find her voice. She knew this woman. Any thought this was a Hydra trick was done away in that instant. Not only had she, of course, seen pictures of younger Peggy, but she'd met the woman herself when she was twelve. Tony took her to DC to meet his 'aunt' Peggy. After kissing him on the cheek, telling him he looked pale, and chastising him for taking so long to introduce his daughter, the elderly Peggy banished him from the house so she and Darcy could have 'girl time'. Then she'd given Darcy lemonade and cookies and spent most of the day telling her stories of the Howling Commandos and Howard. 

"Agents," she croaked out with a forced smile. 

"Doctor Kovac told us you're still recovering from your ordeal," Peggy continued with a thin smile. "We're sorry to be a bother, but we've got a few questions, if you don't mind." 

"Sure."

Peggy and Sousa moved around to sit at the table, and Darcy took a chair opposite them. Her brain was scrambling, whirling; she was, if not okay, then at least coping when this was a trick, or even when the idea of time travel was just an abstraction. Peggy made it real and she couldn't think clear past that. 

Sousa pulled a sheet of paper out of the inner pocket of his jacket and set it carefully on the table in front of him. Peggy stared at it for a moment, then looked at Darcy. 

"You told Lt. Gordon you worked for Stark Industries," Peggy said. "Curiously, we couldn't find any record of your employment with the company."

Jesus, what did she say to that? 'I thought this was a Hydra trick and it didn't matter what I said?'. Darcy let out a long breath and leaned back in her chair. "It was all I could think of."

"The truth didn't occur to you?" 

"It was as close to the truth as made sense," Darcy told her, tone soft and distracted as she tried to get her mind back on track. God, what did she say? How did she get herself out of this? She needed more time to think, and she was still sluggish from her nap and from whatever happened to her. 

"Why is that?" Peggy asked. Sousa was still silent, but he was watching her closely. 

How funny that she was more prepared to deal with Hydra than Peggy Carter. Darcy was entirely at a loss. "I don't know what to say."

"I find the truth is always very liberating," Peggy told her dryly. 

"It can be," she acknowledged. "It can also be complicated."

"Well, why don't we give it a try and see how it goes."

Darcy snorted a laugh and glanced away from her, looking around the room while she tried to come up with a reasonable answer. Nothing was coming to her. "I need to talk to Howard Stark," she said finally. If she could sort this out, it would be with his help. 

"Yes, the lieutenant said you were insistent on that point. How do you know Howard?"

"I don't," Darcy said. 

Sousa moved then, opening the paper and sliding it towards her. "Is this code?"

Darcy looked down at the page and sighed. Her note to Howard; it hadn't gone very far at all. Lt. Gordon was a jerk. "No. It's math."

"What sort of math?" Sousa said, tapping a finger on the paper. 

"It's an engineering problem. It's an idea, or part of one, for dealing with heat transfer across systems."

"And what's that got to do with Stark?"

"It has a wide range of engineering applications." From her knowledge of things Howard had been developing in the late 40s, Darcy recalled a particularly tricky problem he was having with thermal efficiency in some of his engine designs. But, she couldn't remember exactly when he'd started working on that. The note had been a stab in the dark, a hope that the numbers would make sense to him in that context, that he'd be intrigued enough to visit. 

"So you're an engineer," Peggy said. "And this was, what? A job interview of sorts?"

"No," Darcy shook her head, feeling rueful and somewhat defeated. They weren't going to let up and give her time to get her story straight. Which was a smart tactic, if only it wasn't being used on her. "I was hoping it would make him curious enough to come talk to me."

"What do you hope Howard can do for you?"

"I hope he can help me figure out what happened."

Peggy nodded and put her arms on the table, settling herself comfortably. "According to Doctor Kovac's official report, you were abducted from Manhattan, drugged, and hit on the head. That seems straightforward to me."

"If it was, would you be here?"

"Possibly," Peggy admitted. "But, then our questions would bend more towards who abducted you."

"I don't remember."

"Yes, I got that," Peggy said with a smile that said she felt entirely confident and in control of the situation, one that said she'd pinned Darcy right where she wanted her. Peggy Carter was hella intemidating. "But then you lied about working at Stark Industries and sent a very odd note for Howard. You can see how that would pique our own curiosity."

"Yes."

"Are you a spy?" Sousa asked. 

"No," Darcy said, shaking her head. 

He raised an eyebrow, not believing her even a little. "You sure?"

She laughed and let out a long breath. "I'd think I'd know if I was. And I'm not."

"We've had some problems with Russians getting a little too close to Stark lately."

"I'm not Russian, and I'm not a spy," Darcy repeated. 

Sousa nodded, though he seemed unconvinced. "Where do you work, Miss Lewis?"

"I can't answer that," she said with a shake of her head. 

"Why not?" Sousa asked. "You said Stark Industries. Why not say an accountant's office, or the Times, or Ma Bell, or anywhere else? Why Stark Industries?"

With a helpless shrug, Darcy spread her hands and said, "I already told you, I think he's who can help me figure out what happened."

"Did you serve?" Peggy cutting in, changing the subject, probably recognizing they weren't getting far on the subject of Howard. She nodded to Darcy's clothes. 

"No."

Peggy looked skeptical. "Really?" 

"Really." Darcy looked down and plucked at the jacket cuff. "Nurse Welker got this for me. My clothes were destroyed, I guess."

"Ah, yes, we met Nurse Welker," Peggy said with a grimace. "She wasn't very happy with us."

"No," Darcy agreed with a smirk. "She told me to give you what for."

Peggy let out a light laugh on a soft breath and nodded. "I imagine she did. I suspect the uniform's a special little message to us."

"I think she got it earlier, you were just the lucky two who got to see it first. She wasn't very happy with the MPs earlier, either. So …"

"Indeed. You were found by a bunker, do you know what's there?"

Darcy's lips ticked up a little with the abrupt change in topic. Peggy was trying to get her comfortable and then trip her up by the sudden change. Darcy admired the lack of subtlety in it, too. Going from a bland 'how lovely' tone to 'bam!' "No. I don't even know where it is."

"It's an SSR storage facility," she said, sounding as though she was annoyed she had to point out something Darcy already knew. It was hard to blame her. Nothing about this situation made sense from any angle. 

"Nurse Welker told me."

Peggy gave her a long look and cocked her head slightly to one side. "It's highly secure."

"And, Lt. Gordon told me that," Darcy said with a small laugh. 

"Lots of people telling you all sorts of things, I guess."

"Except how I got here," Darcy pointed out. 

"No memory at all."

"Nothing after I left work Friday."

Peggy nodded and smiled, showing some teeth. "And you can't tell us _where_ you work."

"It won't make any sense."

"Try," Peggy ordered. 

"Stark Industries," Darcy said. It was true, and yet it wasn't, and she really couldn't think what else to say. 

"And yet, we know you're not an employee."

"Right."

"So you work somewhere you don't work."

Darcy laughed a little at herself, at the hole she'd dug, and nodded. "Exactly."

Peggy twisted a little in her seat and braced her elbow on the back of the chair and propped her chin on her hand. "You're right, that doesn't make any sense."

"Unless," Sousa said, "you're using an alias or something."

"Spying?" Darcy suggested with a smirk.

He offered his own thin smile in return and nodded his head towards her. "You said it."

"But I'm not doing it."

"Let's go back to Howard," Peggy suggested.

Darcy snatched at the change in topic, and leaned forward, pleading, "Please. Get him that note. I just need five minutes with him." She tipped her head side to side and considered. "Maybe ten. But, that's it. If he won't or can't help me, I will stop asking."

"And if he won't, then what will you do?"

Darcy took a deep breath and shook her head. She didn't have a plan past talking to Howard. "I don't know."

"Here's what I don't understand," Sousa said with a thoughtful frown. "By all indications you were abducted. That's awful, and I'm real sorry for what you've been through, but I know the MPs are trying to track down who might have taken you. They've got word down to Manhattan for any police reports or anything. What's to figure past that? Past who took you?" 

"Why they took me?" Darcy offered.

"Sure," Sousa accepted that with a shrug, "but what's Stark got to do with that? You think he did it?"

"No. I know he didn't."

"How can you know that if you don't know who took you?"

"It won't make any sense."

Peggy rolled her eyes and sat forward again. "Nothing about you makes any sense, Miss Lewis. I'm growing a bit tired of it."

"You and me both," Darcy said, tossing her a grim smile. Her head was starting to ache again, and an icy knot of desperation was building in her chest. She needed to extricate herself from this, but she couldn't see a way clear. Peggy and Sousa weren't giving her an inch. "I don't think there's anything I can say that can convince you I'm not a spy. I genuinely need Howard's help."

"Nothing at all?" Peggy said with a sardonic smile. "Nothing you might try?"

Darcy shook her head and opened her hands, palms up, in a gesture that said she had nothing, nothing to suggest, nothing to say, nothing to try. Peggy frowned and tapped the table, Sousa's face went hard and dark. 

"You made a mistake, you realize?" Peggy said. 

Darcy kept her mouth shut. She made a handful of them. One on top of the other, building into the foundation of what could truly be an epic mess. Cold prickles of anxiety began to skitter across her scalp and down her spine.

"You should have continued playing up the amnesia," the agent continued. "Doctor Kovac's report is that you were kidnapped and dropped here by persons unknown. It's very clear. But, then you lied."

"I didn't lie," Darcy said, setting her jaw and trying to still the rapid pace of her heart and breathing. 1946 was sinking in, and she was starting to feel panicky, trapped. 

"Yes, you did. You admitted you did."

"I really didn't." Darcy's vision was narrowing, her mouth growing dry. The headache tightened and her stomach lurched.

"Oh, right, yes, you work for Stark Industries and yet you don't. How very curious."

And there it was, that desperation building to a head, the frustration of her situation, her own confusion, and the overwhelming reality of 1946. It all broke free of Darcy in a choked outburst, "Would you like me to tell you that you were part of Project: Rebirth? That Steve Rogers owed you a dance? You have a brother. You live in Brooklyn. You take your tea with milk and two sugars."

Peggy stiffened in her chair and Sousa's face crumpled into a confused frown. Sitting up very carefully, Peggy fixed her gaze on Darcy but addressed her partner, "Daniel, would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Peg—"

"Just for a minute. Please."

He chewed on that for a second, shooting a look at Darcy, who was grimacing and regretting every word she'd spewed across the room in an explosion of awkward and damning verbal shrapnel. Way to go, Lewis. Stay under the radar, work this out, reach Howard, don't be arrested for espionage. How hard was that? 

Darcy's hands were feeling sweaty and shaky, her chest was tight, her stomach churning. Opening her mouth, she tried to breathe through the panic, tried to use one of the visualization techniques Clint taught her, but she couldn't concentrate enough through the tempest of anxiety. 

"One minute," he said, raising a single finger at Peggy and levering himself to his feet. "I'll be right outside."

Peggy waited until he'd left before turning to Darcy with a dark look. "How do you know all that?"

"You won't believe me," she said. 

"Oh, I think you owe me an explanation," Peggy told her, voice tight with anger. 

"Probably," Darcy muttered, feeling like she was seconds from a breakdown. She was stronger than this, she was better than this, she had training, she had experience. She was having a panic attack and it was choking the life out of her. Peggy was as close to a gatekeeper to Howard as she could hope, and now she'd blown it all up. 

"I think you'd rather tell me than Agent Sousa, am I right?"

Darcy licked her lips and took a few deep breaths before she sat forward, placing both of her shaking hands flat on the table. Swallowing heavily, she stared at her fingers and took the only path she could see. "I work at Stark Industries. In 2015."

"2015. What does that mean? Room 2015? Department 2015?"

"The year 2015."

To her credit, Peggy did not immediately laugh at Darcy and leave the room. "I see. The doctor did say you hit your head rather hard."

"I don't think it's the knock on the head," Darcy said with a roll of her eyes.

"If you say so. So, how do you know about me, then?"

Darcy closed her eyes, pictured the waterfall Clint was always telling her about, the one she needed to let wash over her, wash away the panic, wash away the anxiety. Wash it all away. "You're one of Howard's friends."

"Do you investigate all of your company founder's friends?"

"No."

"I'd like, very much, if you'd stop with the vague answers. You may as well just come out with all of it," Peggy observed in a brusque tone. "At this point, what have you to lose?"

"Nothing, I guess," Darcy groaned and rubbed at her forehead. "You're never going to believe me."

"Are you suggesting that the bit where you're from the year 2015 is the element _least_ difficult to believe?" Peggy asked with an incredulous smile and a bit of aggravation. "You're quite something else, Miss Lewis."

Taking another deep breath, Darcy relaxed her shoulders, trying again to let go of the tension, and looked up from her hands. She met Peggy's eyes, unflinching. She'd made this mess and now she was going to have to deal with it like a grown up. That was all there was to it. Panic aside, this was the situation. This was something she could handle. So, she'd gone back in time 69 years. Well, that's just what it was. Get your head straight, Lewis. Deep breath, just say it, Peggy was right. There was nothing to lose. 

"I know you, and I know Howard, because I am his granddaughter."

Peggy shoved herself away from the table with an exasperated breath. "Oh, this is _absurd_ , Miss Lewis." 

"I told you. I told you you wouldn't believe me."

"Well, yes, because it is, frankly, unbelievable." 

"Sure, and taking a little guy and turning him into a big guy is super believable, too," Darcy snapped back, she was so on edge she didn't even regret it. 

Peggy didn't like that, no, not one little bit. Her face went hard. "What do you know about Project: Rebirth?"

"Everything. My grandfather worked on the project."

Peggy pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "And how—"

Sousa stuck his head back in the door and Peggy held up her hand before he could even step inside. "One more minute."

"Ah, come on, Peggy. Thompson—"

"Need never find out." She turned her head and gave him a tight smile. "Perhaps more on the order of five minutes. As you can see, we're both unharmed."

"Well, my money's always on you," Sousa said, sounding resigned, but he gave Darcy a warning glare anyway. "What if she's like Underwood?" He asked, lowering his voice into little more than a whisper. 

Looking impatient, Peggy turned back to Darcy. "Would you be so good as to promise Agent Sousa you won't try to murder me in the next five minutes."

Darcy held up her hands. "No murder here, attempted or otherwise." She was still shaky enough she wasn't entirely sure she could even stand up, let alone try to throttle Peggy Freaking Carter. 

Sousa glowered at her and pressed his lips together. "Fine. I'm right outside."

"Thank you, Daniel," Peggy said, trying to take the edge off her impatience with a conciliatory smile. 

"Yeah, yeah. You owe me the whole story," he grumbled.

"It's a whale of a tale," Peggy told him with a shake of her head. 

Looking unhappy, Sousa left again. And Peggy waited a beat, gathering herself for the next salvo in her questioning. Darcy waited with her and tried to prepare herself to be as open as possible, while desperately trying to remember her history enough to convince Peggy of _anything_. 

"Steve Rogers," Peggy said finally. "What do you know about him?"

And of course the woman would pick the worst topic. Darcy wasn't prepared to deal with the subject of Steve at all. She wasn't prepared to deal with most of this, but Steve was a topic that was too big for her to contemplate. Her brain was overworked, overloaded, and Steve would short it out completely. 

"There are a lot of history books about him," she replied simply. 

"That was not what I asked," Peggy said, her voice sharp. "I don't care for the evasion."

Darcy winced and tried for contrite, "I don't know what to say."

"The truth."

"I'm trying."

Peggy took a breath, steadying herself, and she leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. "Right, so you're from 2015 and you're Howard's granddaughter. That will be a delightful surprise for him, I'm sure. I hope I'm there when you tell him."

The comment startled a laugh out of Darcy. That sounded like Tony; always wanting to be there when she told people who she was. 

"So, let's say for just a moment that I believed you," Peggy continued, "which I'm sorry to say I really don't—"

"I understand."

"Gracious of you. But, let's say I do, why don't you tell me what happened." The irritation was more or less gone from Peggy's voice, she was trying for calm, gentle. Humor the crazy person. "Lay it all out, Miss Lewis. What is the last thing you do, honestly, remember."

Darcy swallowed heavily and licked her lips. "I was leaving work on Friday with my friend Jane."

"Friday in 2015."

"Yes, it was the end of June."

"Alright, go on."

"As we were walking through the lobby, I saw a security guard I didn't recognize, and another guy near the doors. They looked twitchy, anxious, you know?"

"I'm familiar with the look."

"Two more guys walked in carrying a big box. They dropped it on the floor, then the fake security guy shouted 'hail Hydra'. I told Jane to run, but I slipped. Something in the box went off, there was this strange light leaking out all over the floor. It caught up to me. I fell and woke up here this morning." Darcy pulled off her glasses and rubbed the heel of one hand against her eyes. "I know how that sounds. I know how it felt. I thought this was all some elaborate Hydra trick. Until I saw you."

"Why would Hydra want you?"

"I don't think they were targeting me specifically."

"Miss Lewis, my patience isn't infinite."

"I don't know what they were trying to do. If I had to guess it was blow up the building. Maybe they did. Maybe … " Darcy stopped and gulped at the air, trying to will down the new swell of nausea. There were so many people in that building. She tried not to think of everybody who could be dead and she'd never know it. All her friends, all the innocent workers, everybody. Her dad. She felt her jaw start to quake and she clenched her teeth together as tightly as she could. 

Tapping her hand on the table, Peggy thought a moment before asking again, "Why would Hydra want you?" 

"I don't think—"

"Miss Lewis. I don't care what you think they were trying to do, I want to know why you would think Hydra would go to this much effort in holding you." She waved a hand at the room around them. "Why would they try to trick you into believing you were in a year not your own?"

"I couldn't figure out what was so special about 1946, but," Darcy rubbed a finger under her lower lip and fiddled with her glasses. "They maybe held me once before, and I maybe escaped, and maybe on my way out I blew up their base."

"Maybe," Peggy echoed with a smirk. 

"Maybe." Darcy shrugged and forced a little smile. "They might still be unhappy about that. I don't know."

"Why did they hold you before?"

"They were trying to figure out who I was."

"Howard's granddaughter," Peggy said, still looking like that was the biggest load of crap she'd ever heard. It probably was. If it was her on the other side of the table, Darcy never would have believed any of this.

"That's not general knowledge," Darcy said. "They wanted information about a particular team of special operators"

Peggy tilted her head and pursed her lips. This was a subject that caught her interest. "Like a covert team?"

"They're not covert; they're heavy hitters," she explained. "I worked with them, Hydra was trying to figure out my connection to them and thought they could get information out of me."

"Did you give it?" Peggy asked with a raised eyebrow and a tone that suggested Darcy was already on thin ice with her, she'd better not be the sort to also spill secrets. 

"Only how they took their coffee," Darcy admitted. She was still proud of that. 

"You were their secretary?"

She shook her head. "I was the liaison between them and the agency I worked for."

"But you worked at Stark Industries."

"This was earlier, before that. Well, earlier to me."

Peggy nodded and looked thoughtful. "What do you do at Stark Industries?"

"I'm a lab assistant."

"Not an engineer?"

"Well, yes, I mean, I work with dad and some of the other people there."

"Your father."

"Howard's son."

"Well, won't he be pleased as punch," Peggy said with a wry twist to her lips and a roll of her eyes. 

Darcy laughed. The panic had receded, leaving her drained, rung out like an old towel, but it was kind of funny in a way. What a stinking mess. "Not buying a single word of this, huh?"

"Not a one."

Shrugging, Darcy slumped back in her chair. "We can go with the kidnapped off the street, drugged, hit on the head, no memory thing, if that's easier. But, this is really all I've got."

Peggy gave her a narrow-eyed look and crossed her hands on the table. "So why do you think the strange light deposited you here? At an SSR facility of all places?"

"I've been thinking about that."

"Well, if you're a Stark, I imagine you must have a pretty good idea by now."

"Look, I didn't wholly buy the 1946 thing until I saw you, okay?" Darcy said with a surly scowl. "I've been awake for half a day and spent most of that thinking Hydra had me. And that's when I could even think past the pounding headache. So … maybe I'm not in top form here."

"Alright." Peggy held up a hand, trying to calm Darcy down. "What have you been able to come up with?"

"Well, not knowing what's in your super duper secret bunker, I'm going to guess there's Hydra equipment there, probably designed off their tesseract studies. I'm going to guess that the Hydra idiots in my day had something similar and thought they could get it to overamp and blow. I don't know what happened next, but since I'm guessing, I'll guess that the power there called to, or tangled with, the power here, and I got caught up in a swirling vortex of time and massive confusion." 

"Well," a man's voice broke in, "that sounds nuts."

Darcy jerked in her seat, she never even heard the door open. Scrambling to put her glasses back on, she looked up at the man and gaped. He had a thin, douchey mustache he probably thought was rakish, and an arrogant smirk she'd recognize anywhere.

Peggy didn't jump at the intrusion, but she did turn in her chair and throw Howard an irritated glare. "For God's sake, Howard. I told you to wait."

He grinned at her, striding into the room, shutting the door in Sousa's face as he tried to glance in, and dropped into the chair next to her. "Then you shouldn't have read me such a delectable and tantalizing message over the telephone. How could a fellow resist?"

"You try my patience, you really do," Peggy muttered in a dark tone.

"If I don't try it, how will you know it works?"

Peggy worked her jaw back and forth, glaring back at him. 

Howard laughed and looked over at Darcy, nodding. "So, about your message. That was easily the sexiest note I've ever gotten from a woman," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Darcy grimaced and looked to Peggy for help. But the other woman was still glowering at Howard. 

"I'm thinking asbestos," he continued, ignoring their expressions. 

Darcy shook her head. "No, that stuff's bad news. Maybe fiberglass. Or, try ceramics."

He waved a hand at her and made a dismissive sound. "Nah, too heavy."

"So, come up with a lighter kind," Darcy shot back with a smirk. "Aren't you a genius?"

"Saucy. I like it." He leaned forward and held his hand out to Darcy. "Howard Stark, pleased to meet you, Miss …?"

"Darcy Lewis," she said taking his hand. His palm was smooth against hers, his fingers long and calloused. Blinking up at him, as though she'd just noticed him, she felt the burn and sting of tears behind her eyes. Her grandfather. Right there. For the first time in her life, there he was. Real and alive and impossible. His hand wrapped around hers, warm and solid, no dream. 

When the handshake ended, and he let her go, she turned her own hand over, staring at the lines and creases there. And then the tears came. Once the first one slipped past her lashes it was a torrent she couldn't hope to stop. Whipping off the glasses again, she pushed her fingertips to her eyes and muttered around the tight, choking sob caught in her throat, "sorry, sorry."

"Hey now," Howard said, sounding alarmed. "Geez, I've had some ladies get a little overwhelmed meeting me, but I don't think I've ever had tears." He nudged her arm, getting her attention, and pressed a handkerchief into her fingers. "Hey, hey, it's alright. We'll figure this out."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "It's just been a really long damn day."

Darcy titled her head back, as though that would stem the flood, and pinched the bridge of her nose, while Peggy watched her closely. "Howard, why don't you fetch Miss Lewis a glass of water."

"Yeah, yeah," he said quickly, sounding relieved to be of help. "Or maybe something stronger? I've got a flask."

"Water will be fine," Peggy said through gritted teeth. 

"Sure, back in a jiffy." He stood up and darted out of the room.

"That was quite a show," Peggy said. 

"I don't care," Darcy replied, sniffling and pushing the silk cloth against her eyes. And she didn't care. How it happened, why it happened, what would happen next — none of that mattered. This was easily the second most amazing day of her life, only topped by the day she met Tony. "I just met my grandfather."

The irritation dropped away from the agent's shoulders and she said, in a tone of pure bafflement, "You really believe that, don't you?" 

"Yeah."

"You never met him?"

"No." Darcy dropped her head and met Peggy's eyes again; the enormity of time travel still too much to fully embrace, but this was one thing that was very clear. "Don't tell him that."

Peggy tapped her fingers on the table and opened her mouth to say something else when Howard burst back in. He had a carafe in one hand and a glass in the other. 

"Here you go." He filled the glass and handed it to Darcy. "That nurse friend of yours is hovering. Apparently, we're supposed to go easy on you or she'll bust us all down to rank private. I don't know how that'd work, but I'll admit I'm afraid to find out."

Darcy laughed a little and took a sip of the water, cursing her still trembling lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He retook his chair and continued watching her, his brow creased in a concern. "Now, just take a minute, and then maybe tell me all about that swirling vortex of time and, what was it?"

"Massive confusion," Peggy said in a flat tone.

"Yeah. Sounds like fun."

Darcy took another sip and shook her head. "I thought you said it sounded nuts."

"Well, that, too," he said with an easy smile and a nonchalant shrug. "So, I gather you've been asking for my help, and from the look on Peggy's face, I'd say you're in pretty dire straits. I don't know what I can do for you, sweetheart, but the curiosity's been driving me batty since Yonkers."

Peggy sat back and crossed her arms, lifting an eyebrow at Darcy. "Yes. You got him here, well done. Your five minutes start now."


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy sat back in her chair and studied the woman across from her. In halting, hushed tones, Darcy Lewis was telling Howard her bafflingly mad story of time travel. Hydra, a magic box of light, and a trip sixty-nine years into the past. It _was_ mad, all of it. Including the part where she claimed to be Howard's granddaughter — though, she'd yet to mention that to him. But, good Lord. Of all the people to claim to be, why not a cousin? Long-lost sister? Those might strain credulity, but granddaughter made no attempt at any sort of plausibility. 

Still, while Darcy talked, Peggy couldn't help but try and pick out Howard's features in her face. Not that she believed it, of course, but the claim was bizarre enough that her eyes sought similarities anyway. Darcy's features were almost too angular to be called beautiful; her cheekbones too high, her mouth too wide, her nose too pronounced, her eyes large and gray, but she was, without a doubt, striking. Howard would call her a looker and Angie would probably say she was exotic and compare her to Myrna Loy or some such person. But, there was little of Howard in her. 

Peggy's eyes slid to the man himself and a small breath of exasperation slipped past her lips. He was caught up in the wild impossibility. Leaning forward over the table, his brow beetled as he tried to work out how somebody might travel from the land of tomorrow. Then Darcy looked up at him, a lost, empty look in those wide eyes, but her brow furrowed with his, one eyebrow rising as she made a helpless gesture. And Peggy's breath caught. For a surreal moment she almost believed. The frustrated expression was pure Howard. 

Shaking her head, that was too much, she resumed her study of the woman, but this time she was looking for tells; for something in her body language that gave a clue, a key to the truth. Lewis had been shaken after her vexed, too-knowing outburst. It was a reaction Peggy had seen before; one that might be worn by a man who'd seen too much. The darting eyes, the shaking breath, the hunched shoulders, a desperate jittering like a cornered, feral animal. It was a difficult reaction to fake, but not impossible. Real or not, even in the midst of her panic, she'd held on to enough self-possession to obscure and hide. 

Even now, she seemed unsettled, but the edge had worn down into weariness, exhaustion. Her face was pale, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks blotchy. But that same self-possession remained even as she slumped against the table, and stared at her hands. And there was something else there, something under the bowed shoulders. Peggy couldn't quite put her finger on it, and it gnawed at her. 

When the SSR office received the call two days ago about a mystery woman found near their storage facility, Thompson was sure she was a spy. But, the Doctor's report put an end to that line of thought; he was very clear that she'd been kidnapped, and few people would dare challenge the camp's CMO. So, they waited for her to wake up. A kidnapping victim wasn't nearly as interesting as a spy so, with news of her waking at last, Thompson waved Peggy and Sousa out the door. Of course, upon arriving and receiving the MP's report, the situation got very interesting again. 

Peggy couldn't figure out the girl's angle. Why not just continue to claim amnesia? The Doctor would surely support that. 

"Well, we never entirely understood the tesseract," Howard said, after Darcy finished her tale. "The multi-dimensionality of the cube itself, could presumably —"

"Howard," Peggy chastised before he could bury himself too deeply in this madness. "You can't possibly believe this."

He turned his head to look at her and frowned. "I've seen stranger things."

Peggy raised an eyebrow, but he didn't relent, just stared back at her. "Such as?"

"Well, geez, how about most of what Schmidt worked on?" Howard threw up his hands and sat back. "I'll be damned if I can figure out how he channeled and stored the power of the cube in his weapons. And you know I've been working on that for years now."

"I do know," she told him in an even tone. "But powering weapons and sending somebody from 2015 to today? That's entirely different."

"Is it, though?" Howard argued back. "If anything had the power required to manage that sort of transfer of matter across space-time, I'd put money on the tesseract." 

"What about the nature of the power itself?" Darcy said, looking up from her hands again. "Some sort of quantum entanglement? Spooky fucking action at a distance." Peggy winced at the language, and Darcy shook her head and looked back down again. "I know how this sounds. I really do."

Howard looked taken aback at that suggestion and he rubbed the side of one finger over his mustache. "Huh."

"Oh come on," Peggy groaned. Lewis was a mystery, but not this sort. But, however mad she might be, it was clever of her to know just how to grab Howard's interest. To know exactly how to hold it. Or perhaps she wasn't mad at all. Maybe she was crazy like a fox, as Howard would say. Put the oddest, most unbelievable story out there and play into it to distract. How better to control how people would look at you, even if they did look at you like you were insane? 

"No, just give us a minute, Peg." Howard sat forward again and addressed Lewis, "What about causality?"

The woman's shoulders slumped further and she let her hands slide off the table as she leaned back. "Hell, I don't know. This is not my kind of physics. If Jane was here…"

"Who's Jane?" Peggy asked. 

"My friend. She's an astrophysicist."

"The one you were going to dinner with?"

"Yeah," Lewis murmured, tilting her head back and looking up at the ceiling. 

"Well, I can see why you wanted my help," Howard said and Darcy laughed, dropping her back down to look at him, a strangely affectionate smile on her lips. "Though, maybe you shoulda called Einstein."

"You were the first person I thought of," she said with a tiny shrug of her shoulders. 

"I'm flattered." He waggled his eyebrows at her again and she rolled her eyes. Peggy groaned. 

"Yeah, no," Darcy said. "It's … well." She looked over at Peggy, who stared back. Would she tell him who she thought she was? Or who she was pretending to be? Peggy was determined not to help her with this farce, but she could admit she was curious to see what the woman would choose. 

"Yeah?" Howard prompted. 

Darcy licked her lips and took a deep breath. Then she laughed at herself and shook her head. "Man, today is just … I don't even know how to process any of it."

"Look, it's like this, Peggy's going to be the hard sell, here," Howard said, tossing Peggy a smirk. "I mean, this sounds pretty nuts to me, but I'm intrigued. So, what do you have that Peggy might buy?"

"Oh, she's not going to buy anything," Darcy mused, rubbing a finger along her lips as she thought. There was that surreal moment again. She might not have Howard's obvious looks, but she'd studied him. She had some of his expressions, his ticks, his gestures. 

Peggy smiled and decided to give her a nudge. "Why don't you tell him what you told me?"

"There's more?" Howard asked, his eyebrows rising half up his forehead. 

Darcy gave Peggy a despairing look and Peggy had to laugh. "Shy now, Miss Lewis?"

"You're not very nice," she muttered, but there was a spark of humor in her face. "Fine." She tipped her chin up, accepting Peggy's challenge. Oh, this would be good. 

"Hit me with it," Howard encouraged with a grin. 

"Right, yeah, okay, so the reason you were the first person I thought of was because I work at Stark Industries."

"Still going strong in 2015? Ha," Howard laughed, enjoying the game, and slapping a hand on the table. "We'll rule the world."

"That's not all," Peggy warned, amused. "Come on now, Miss Lewis. Bold as brass."

"You're my grandfather," Darcy told him, then meet Peggy's eyes, a smile teasing her lips. 

"I'm your …" Howard trailed off, his earlier entertainment fading into a confounded frown. Peggy nodded in satisfaction; finally the appropriate response to all this nonsense. 

"Believe it or not," Lewis told him with a wry smile, holding her hands out wide, as though offering him the fact and letting its truth stand between them. Peggy narrowed her eyes and noted how she'd gone from defeated to something more confident, comfortable. Darcy knew she had Howard on the hook. Oh, she was quite good. At least with Howard. He was absurdly predictable if you knew him well enough, and somehow this girl did. 

"Huh. So, I'll have a kid," Howard muttered half to himself. 

"Howard," Peggy groaned and put a hand on her forehead. He was the most ridiculous man. Couldn't he see how Darcy had managed to wrap him up? Well, no, of course he couldn't. Put him in a room with a pretty girl, and …

"It's not a bad story," he mused. 

"It's terrible," Peggy countered. 

"Nah, think of it," he said, holding out a hand towards her. "Who'd believe it? You'd either have to be crazy or telling the truth."

"Why on Earth would lying be off the table?" Peggy asked through gritted teeth. 

"Well, that's my point; who'd believe that as a lie? Besides, if she's lying she's done some serious work. Quantum entanglement?" He shook his head and shot Darcy an admiring look. "Geez, that's advanced egghead stuff."

"Does Harvard have a lunatic asylum nearby, by chance?" Peggy asked, tossing him an impatient smile. 

He laughed and stared at Lewis. Leaning forward, he searched her face, looking for that resemblance Peggy'd sought after herself. After a moment he sat back, stroking his mustache in contemplation. "Stand up," he said at last, standing himself. 

Darcy frowned at him, but rose slowly from her chair. He came around and stood next to her, peering at her face for another moment, before turning back to Peggy and slinging an arm around the woman's shoulders. "What do you think?"

"I think you're both mad," Peggy told him matter-of-factly. 

Howard looked down at Lewis and nodded. "Come on, she looks like me."

Peggy let out a long breath and resisted the urge to drop her head to the table. "Maybe a passing resemblance. But that can't be uncommon. Plenty of people resemble other people, that doesn't make them related."

Howard raised his hand and grabbed Darcy's chin. "That is a Stark chin. I'd know; I see mine in the shaving mirror every day."

"You cannot possibly …" Pure astonishment killed the words on Peggy's lips. She flapped a hand at both of them. "You … this is … my God, Howard. Your granddaughter? Are you mad? This would be laughable if it wasn't so completely insane. I cannot believe you."

Howard sighed and rolled his eyes. "Got a Stark family secret to spill, something to convince us?"

Darcy shrugged, looking defeated again. "I don't know. Stark family secrets tend to be actually secret. I don't think that'll really help my 'I'm not a spy' defense."

"Come on," he cajoled. "There's got to be something."

"I … uh, I don't know." She rubbed at her forehead, her eyes going tight. Both she and Doctor Kovac said she'd woken with a headache, it seemed to have returned. In this, at least, Peggy could sympathize. "Oh … oh, I think …"

"Yes," Peggy prompted impatiently. "What have you got for us?"

"SHIELD."

Peggy's head jerked at that, and even Howard looked flabbergasted. "SHIELD?" He echoed. 

"Strategic Homeland Intervention and Enforcement Logistics Division," she said, rattling off the name with ease. Peggy frowned. That wasn't quite right, though. "Oh, wait, the name changed in the 90s, I think. Strategic Hazard Intervention, Espionage, Logistics Directorate." 

"How on Earth?" Peggy forced out, feeling weak with shock. She and Howard had only very recently begun discussing a successor for the SSR. Howard joked about the name only a couple days previously. There was no possible way Darcy could have known; she was unconscious at the time. "You couldn't know that. That's not possible."

Darcy smiled, but there was no triumph in it, the smile was tired and almost rueful. "I could if I was a SHIELD agent who was the granddaughter of one of the founders."

"An agent," Howard crowed, shaking himself out of his shock. "Well, what do you know, Peg?"

"I can't even begin to understand," Peggy said, and now she felt a headache building behind her eyes. An agent. Well, that might explain her bearing, even under the stress of the day; she'd been worn and resigned, but there was something in her that wouldn't give in. A reserve of tenacity, that was that something Peggy hadn't quite been able to put her finger on earlier. 

Still stunned and beyond confused, Peggy tried to sort this out. She and Howard hadn't settled on a name for the successor agency, the idea itself was so fresh, in its infancy, barely more than a wish, really; but they'd both agreed to honor Steve somehow. It became a matter of fitting a mission statement into the word 'shield'. So, while neither name Darcy offered was exactly right, the pieces were there, the bits they'd tossed out to fill in the word, to make their statement. Peggy rubbed a hand over her face, not caring what she might be doing to her makeup. Now she felt like the one going mad. 

"I'm sorry," Darcy said quietly, looking almost chagrined. "If I could have thought of something else—"

"No, that's okay, sweetheart." Howard said, giving her a comforting shake. "This is a lot for all of us to take in."

Peggy looked up at both of them, and standing there together, as her own mind whirled dizzily, she could see it, she could see two Starks staring back at her, waiting for her to catch up with them. Good Lord, was she really contemplating believing this? But, how could she not? There was no other way the girl could have known. 

"So," Howard said, grinning down at Darcy. "What am I going to have? A boy or a girl? Who's your grandmother? It wouldn't happen to be Peggy would it?" He tossed Peggy an arrogant smirk, this time targeting her with his obnoxious eyebrow waggle. 

"Howard, do shut up," Peggy ground out, still trying to get anything at all to make sense. 

"A girl, I bet. Your last name is Lewis. He must be a decent fellow, or I'd never let a daughter of mine marry him."

"No, not a girl," Peggy said, recalling through the haze of insanity, that Darcy mentioned her father, Howard's son. 

"Huh. Okay then how come your last name isn't Stark?"

"My mother married a man called Lewis. I took his name," Darcy explained.

"Wait, wait," Howard said, holding up a hand. "Your parents weren't married? I don't know if I like that."

"That?" Peggy exclaimed with a helpless laugh. "That's where you draw the line?"

"I'd like to think I'd raise a son better than—"

"Hey now," Darcy broke in, her face going hard. "My dad's a great dad. Both of them are. My parents wanted to protect me, all of them. Stark's a well-known name. My mom wanted me to have a normal life. Don't pick at dad about that," she warned with a hard poke at Howard's chest. "I'm proud to be a Stark, but when I was a kid, with the gossip rags and all, it scared me. Dad protected me. He's protected me my whole life."

Howard held up his hands in contrition. "Sorry, sorry. Sore spot, huh?"

"People don't always understand my dad," she mumbled. 

"Well," Howard said, at a loss for a moment, but he rallied after a heartbeat. "Tell me I at least spoil you rotten?"

Peggy watched Darcy's face; according to her she'd never met her grandfather. Presumably, Howard died before she was born. Darcy looked away from him, her face drawn, but after a moment her lips ticked up in a smile. 

"In your own way," she said with careful evasion. 

"Did I buy you a pony?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I wasn't really a pony kind of girl. I liked motorcycles."

"So, I got you a motorcycle," Howard said, looking pleased.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice was quiet, distant, but the smile on her lips didn't waver. "When I was twelve."

"Howard," Peggy exclaimed, unable to help herself at the thought of a twelve-year old girl with a motorcycle. 

"What?" He gave her an affronted look. "I haven't done it yet." Then he leaned over Darcy, and whispered conspiratorially, "What kind was it?"

Darcy hesitated. Licking her lips she glanced at Peggy and then looked back at Howard. "A Harley-Davidson 1942WLA."

"Really? I didn't even spring for a new one?"

"It was Steve Rogers' bike," she admitted, her voice dropping into a hush. 

Peggy felt the punch in her stomach, and Howard looked stricken for a moment before he tugged Darcy into his side and smiled. "Good. Best person to have it. You take good care of it."

"Yes, sir."

In the lull following that, Sousa knocked on the door and stuck his head in. "You guys done yet?"

Peggy grimaced and forced a smile. "Just another minute."

"Ah, Peggy. Really?" Daniel groaned. "Thompson's going to have my head."

Howard waved him off. "We're having a little family reunion here."

"Howard," Peggy hissed, giving him a small, sharp shake of her head. 

"What?" Sousa asked, looking confused. 

"Look," Howard said, "just go—"

"Sir?" Jarvis poked his head around Sousa's shoulder. "There's a Sergeant here to see the young lady and the nurse is getting quite impatient." He shot a nervous glance over his shoulder. 

"Jarvis," Darcy whispered, staring at the man much as she'd stared at Howard. But, instead of stunned tears, her lips pulled up into a wide grin. "Edwin Jarvis."

Jarvis frowned, confused. "Yes? Hello, do we know each other?"

"Jarvis, get in here," Howard ordered, waving him in. "Sousa, give us a minute."

Sousa sighed and gave Peggy an exasperated look. "I'll explain everything," she promised. "Somehow."

"The Sergeant, sir?" Jarvis asked, stepping into the room. 

"Oh, fine, what does he want?" Howard said with a frustrated roll of his eyes. The young sergeant Peggy recognized from the MP office stepped into the quickly crowding room, shuffling his feet and holding a folded cloth in his left hand. 

"Geez, if I'd known this was going to turn into a party, I'd've brought more booze," Howard grumbled. 

"Sorry, sir," the Sergeant said. "I, uh, Miss Lewis, I went back out to where we found you. Just looking for clues or something. And I found these." He held out the cloth in his hand over the table. Darcy took it, opening the bundle, brows lowered in curiosity. 

"My glasses," she crowed. "Thank you, Sergeant Reilly."

He smiled and ducked his head bashfully. "They're a little banged up."

Darcy poked at the twisted metal frame and smiled up at him. "I can fix them. Really, thank you so much."

"Of course, ma'am. Glad I could help." He looked at the three other people in the room and then glanced over his shoulder at Sousa's scowl. "I'll, uh, let you get back to it."

Darcy gave him a little wave. "Have a good night, Sergeant."

"You, too, ma'am." He turned back to the door but paused and looked at Darcy again. "If you need anything, you can just have the nurse call me."

"That's very kind of you," she said with a gracious nod of her head. 

He gave her a sharp salute and left. Sousa still stood in the door, his arms crossed. 

"Please, Daniel," Peggy pleaded. This was an odd night, he was being extraordinarily patient. She'd owe him quite a lot for that. 

"Oh fine," he said, sounding resigned. Shooting the room one last baffled look, he left. 

"The Sergeant seems sweet on you," Howard chuckled and Darcy rolled her eyes. "Could come in handy if we have to bust you out. Pull a little femme fatal."

"Yeah, no, I've already got one soldier I don't know what to do with," she murmured, looking back down at her glasses. 

"Don't know what to do with him?" Howard exclaimed. "Your father should have explained; see it's like this—"

Darcy made a disgusted face and batted his arm irritably. "No, I've got the mechanics. It's not like that."

"What is it like?"

"He's had a hard time. Just leave it." Her face had gone pale and tight again, her eyes distant. Well, a Stark aside, Darcy seems to have been through quite a lot. And not just today. 

"Yes," Peggy said, jumping in. "Leave it for now. We have a bigger problem. Sousa was there when the MPs gave their report. Thompson was already half-certain that she was a spy, that report's only going to add fuel. He'll want her back and interrogated."

"To hell with him," Howard spat. 

"If only it was that easy," Peggy said dryly. "He's not going to believe this story. Not for a second. And there's nothing will convince him."

"So, we need another story," Howard said, pragmatic and resolved. 

"I'm sorry," Jarvis broke in, "but what is _this_ , exactly?"

Howard presented Darcy proudly to Jarvis, his hands on her shoulders. "Jarvis, meet my granddaughter Darcy." 

"Sir," Jarvis said, sounding scandalized. "I don't need to know that sort of—"

"No," Howard hissed through his teeth. "She really is."

"I didn't believe it, either," Peggy told Jarvis with a bemused smile. "Actually, I'm still not certain I do. But, she presented some compelling evidence."

Jarvis's mouth worked for a moment, opening and closing, while he tried to come up with something appropriate to say. Finally, calling on his years of training and his inherent English politeness, he smiled and said, "I see. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Stark." 

He held out his hand for her. Darcy stared at it for a moment, before pushing away from Howard and moving around the table to wrap Jarvis in a tight embrace, burying her face in his chest. 

"Oh. Uh, oh my. Hugging. Yes, well," he muttered, flustered, and patting her back awkwardly while she held on.

"Sorry, I've wanted to hug you forever," she said, her voice muffled by tweed, but she didn't let go. 

"Uh, no, no, it's quite alright. Nothing wrong with a hug." His shoulders were stiff and he looked to Howard for help. That was a fool's errand, Howard was cackling to himself. 

"Okay, okay," Howard caught the look, though, and had the decency to pull himself out of his amusement, putting a hand on Darcy's shoulder and tugging her back. "Stop mauling my butler. Geez, he gets a hug, I got tears."

It was a mad story, daft beyond all measure, but Darcy knew things, and this, her reaction to Jarvis; it was so unexpected, so genuine, Peggy felt her own doubts begin to melt away. This was difficult to understand, but if it was true, how much more difficult for Darcy? Perhaps she'd known Jarvis as a child. He would have been elderly, but what a thing to see somebody again, after so long. No wonder she'd succumbed to tears when she saw Howard. No wonder she'd gaped like a fish when she walked into the room and saw Peggy. 

"This has been an overwhelming day, I'm sure," Peggy said. "But we need a story and we need it quickly."

Howard shrugged. "Distant cousin."

"Whose?"

"Mine, of course."

Peggy raised an eyebrow. "Did you tell Sousa you didn't know her?"

"I said I didn't know who you had," he said with an unconcerned shrug. "You did forget to tell me her name when you read me her message."

"Sir," Jarvis broke in, still watching Darcy with a baffled frown, and she kept staring at him, smiling. "Your personal history is quite well known."

"Not all of it. Besides, who's ever dug into my parents? Nobody, that's who," Howard pointed out.

Peggy snorted and shook her head. "If you claim a sudden cousin who just happened to mysteriously turn up at a secure SSR facility, Thompson will dig."

"Let him dig," Howard scoffed. "See how far he gets."

"Far enough to cause trouble."

"How long would it take him?" Darcy asked. 

Peggy considered for a moment before shrugging. "I can't say. Census records, immigration records. It will take some time."

Darcy nodded and looked at Howard. "We've got to get me back home."

"Right," Howard nodded his agreement. "Okay. I say distant cousin. Past that it's nobody's business."

"Fine," Peggy agreed. He'd decided and there was little chance of shifting him. "So how'd she end up here?"

"Just like the Doc's report says. Kidnapped."

"But, why?"

"To get to me, maybe. Or somebody thinks she knows something I'd know."

Darcy nodded. "That will clear up how I work at Stark Industries and don't at the same time. I'm not officially an employee. Maybe I help out with, uh, Cousin Howard."

Howard snapped his fingers. "There you go. And you're a Stark, so you're smart. They, whoever they are, grabbed you because they thought you could tell them something about the items here. It's all Hydra, right?" He glanced at Peggy and she nodded back reluctantly. "You know, I'm feeling like we need to do a proper inventory."

Peggy sighed, suddenly weary of this whole situation. It was only going to get worse in the days to come. "Not tonight, Howard."

"So, tomorrow," he said with a bright grin. 

"Alright." Peggy turned a pointed look at Darcy. "And how do you get around claiming not to know Howard?" 

"Maybe it's not widely known," she offered. "I mean, Howard's pretty famous and I'm not one for the limelight."

"Perfect," Howard said, and Peggy rolled her eyes. It was hardly perfect. It was thin as paper, as full of holes as swiss cheese. 

"We could start a counter investigation," Jarvis suggested. "Mr. Stark could be outraged that his cousin has been exposed and put in harm's way. He'll want to get to the bottom of who might have discovered that, and who would have taken her. Perhaps there's a mole in the company."

"Or a mole in the SSR," Darcy said, her eyes brightening as she formed an idea of her own. That was a disturbingly Howard look, as well. The 'I am going to do something disastrous and it will be brilliant' look. Peggy braced herself. "Or both."

"The SSR has no idea Howard has a cousin," Peggy countered. "Or, they don't know that he doesn't have a fake cousin who … this is ridiculous."

"But, wouldn't it make sense to assume the SSR would know if he did? So, Howard gets all accusatory," Darcy said, warming to the idea. "While your Thompson guy's trying to fend off Howard's accusations that there's a mole, and maybe while he's trying to figure out if the SSR did know and if there is, in fact, a mole, that might buy us the time to figure out how to get me out of here."

"I guess—" Peggy started, frowning as she tried to sort out how that would all work. Stirring up a hornets' nest just to distract. Yes, Miss Lewis was certainly bold as brass. 

"Genius," Howard exclaimed. "I like it."

"You would," Peggy muttered. "Fine. This is a mad plan. This is all mad. I just feel like I need to point that out to all of you."

"Consider it pointed," Howard said with a laugh, then he stepped away from Darcy and smiled at her. "Now, let me go see if the Doc will spring you."

Peggy shook her head. "It's late. Let Darcy rest tonight. She looks like she needs it."

Darcy nodded her agreement, though it seemed reluctant. "I could use a couple more aspirin, too."

Peggy stood and took a deep breath. "I've got to explain this to Daniel and then we're to make a report to Thompson."

"Ah," Howard made a dismissive noise, "let him cool his heels for the night."

"That will only make things worse," Peggy told him.

"Oh," Darcy said, something occurring to her. "Tell Agent Sousa that the note I sent, _was_ a code of sorts. It's an engineering problem I'm working on and Howard knew about it. He came to get me, but he wanted to make sure it was me first. Top secret, or whatever."

"Very well," Peggy sighed. "Well, I've got my work cut out for me. So, if you'll excuse me."

"First thing in the morning, Peggy," Howard said. "I want to check that bunker."

Of course he would. Well, she and Daniel were meant to go in the morning anyway, to inspect the security. But, she'd need to clear Howard's presence and Thompson was going to be difficult about that. "I'll see what I can do."

"I've got faith," Howard said stoutly, giving her a cocky smile. 

She ignored him and turned to the other two. "Good night, Mr. Jarvis, Miss Lewis."

"Goodnight Miss Carter," Jarvis said with a cordial nod. "It was lovely to see you again."

"You, too."

Darcy gave her a wave, but she was flagging. As soon as Peggy was out in the hall, at the glare from the nurse, she waved the woman in and jerked her head at Sousa. 

"You gonna tell me what that's all about?" He asked, pivoting on his prosthetic leg to follow her movement. "And should you have left Stark in there?"

"Oh Lord," Peggy groaned and raised her eyes to the ceiling, silently apologizing to him for the lies she was about to tell. "It's quite a story. And I'm famished. Let me tell you over dinner."

"Yeah." He limped up beside her and they started down the hall. "You're going to tell me everything?"

"Everything," she agreed. He was still a little stung, a little hesitant after the events in the spring. Her secrets, her private investigation. And now she was doing it to him all over again. Starks. Infuriating and destined to complicate her life in every particular. "It's a mad tale, I warn you."

"She does know Stark?"

"Oh, yes."

Daniel faltered a little as a certain sort of implication hit him. "Oh, one of those … um …"

"No, nothing like that," Peggy said quickly. People were going to be suspicious enough, but she knew Thompson would have Sousa do the digging, which meant she needed him to believe the story she'd tell him. "Dinner first. I feel like I'll need the strength."

Daniel quirked a smile at her. "That bad?"

She puffed her cheeks out with a long breath and smiled, resigned. "Depends on how you look at it, I suppose."


	4. Chapter 4

When Howard said he wanted to inventory the bunker first thing, he meant just as daylight was blushing its way across the sky. Unfortunately for him, Doctor Kovac refused to rouse his patient at the crack of dawn, and he was absolutely not going to release Darcy into Howard's care until he was certain she was well enough to look after herself. Howard stubbornly refused to leave, so he spent the morning with Darcy until Peggy and Sousa arrived to help get her released. The doctor seemed suspicious of the cousin story, but Howard spun a line of lies that left the other man dizzy, and Jarvis backed him up by nodding solemnly and looking resigned. Peggy just sighed and promised the doctor Darcy would be safe and well with Howard, and that she would personally guarantee it. 

The conversation with Daniel the night before hadn't gone particularly well, nor had it gone particularly badly. The facts as Peggy presented them over dinner in the canteen hung between the pair like a strange miasma. Daniel, quite honestly, didn't know what to think; she could hardly blame him. Though, she had warned him it was a wild tale. He didn't seem to think Peggy was lying, but she could tell he thought, perhaps, that Howard was, and he was puzzled she'd let herself be snookered. Still, as they worked to ease Doctor Kovac's concerns, he backed Peggy's position and while he shot Darcy and Howard baffled looks, he didn't say anything to undermine Peggy. 

Thompson was more overt and far more vocal in his suspicions. Peggy assured him she'd never heard of a cousin, either, but insisted that upon seeing them together, she was convinced. Bristling at the girl falling under Stark's protection, away from his ability to interrogate her, Thompson refused to allow either of them into the bunker, until Peggy, gritting her teeth, reminded him she was not above calling Colonel Philips for his input into the matter. The argument ended with Thompson ordering Sousa back to the city after their inspection of the bunker. It was implied that Peggy would be with him, but as it was not made direct, she thought she might just take the opportunity to return with Howard and continue to learn what she could about Darcy. Whatever doubts Daniel had, she had some of her own, as well. 

"I guess I can sort of see the resemblance," Daniel said, squinting at Darcy and Howard as they poked through a box in the storage bunker. 

Peggy glanced up from her clipboard and studied the pair. Darcy's hair was back up in its braided bun, and she was wearing a borrowed dress today, a dark blue-gray with a subtle floral print and pleated skirt. Nurse Welker had clearly decided she'd made enough of a statement with the uniform the previous evening. Dark circles still hung under Darcy's eyes, and she was still quite pale. Doctor Kovac insisted she needed rest, but admitted she was on the mend and there wasn't much else he could do for her. When they got to the bunker, she dove in as eagerly as Howard, despite her exhaustion. The two of them were currently engaged in a quiet, yet spirited looking debate, one they both seemed to be enjoying. 

"I suppose," Peggy said. "I think it's more in their manner than looks."

"Irritating? Aggravating? Pain in the neck?" Daniel guessed with a smirk. 

She huffed a little laugh and opened the container next to her. "That remains to be seen, but given there are two of them, I suppose it's to be expected. We shall brace ourselves."

Daniel continued to frown at them until Peggy nudged his arm, silently asking for his attention on the inventory.

"I find it helped," she said, "to think of her as a woman-shaped version of Howard. Things became much more clear after that."

Barking a laugh, Daniel leaned his crutch against the container and started pawing through the items. "Geez, this is a lot of junk."

"After the war, we grabbed up everything. No telling what was dangerous and what was an electric torch until we'd sorted through it all."

"Well, we seem to have found all the broken radios," Daniel said with a quirk of his lips. 

Peggy nodded and they slipped the lid back on the crate. "Next."

"Look," Howard's voice carried across the space, his argument with Darcy apparently going from spirited to heated, and Peggy glanced back over at them. "If a person is at time A and they go back to time B, then time A still happened."

"You don't know that," Darcy argued back. "What about a multiverse? Time A could change to time A2 because you changed things in time B."

"But, that's my point," Howard said, pointing at her. "You couldn't, because even though you started in time A, time A was shaped by time B."

"Unless it's time A1 and going to time B branches a time A2 timeline."

"But A1 is always there."

"We don't know that," Darcy's voice rose to an exasperated shout.

Howard sighed and propped a hip against the crate. "Ah, come on, I've never believed time is that fragile. It won't let something undo itself. Think of the mess."

"I am thinking of the mess, I spent half the night thinking of the mess," Darcy told him, crossing her arms sullenly. 

Daniel shot Peggy a look from under his lowered brows, amusement lighting his eyes. "I see it now," he said. "I didn't understand a word of that."

Peggy smiled weakly and shook her head. "Why don't you inventory that crate over there and I'll try to settle them down."

Wiping the dust off her hands on an old rag, she waited until Daniel was out of earshot before stepping over to the arguing pair. "Your voices are carrying," she said, her own voice edged with warning.

"We were having a philosophical debate," Howard grumbled, grinding his teeth at his granddaughter. 

"Philosophical nothing," Darcy groused. "It's my life. Stop asking about things I can't tell you."

"Come on there has to be something," Howard cajoled, trying his most charming grin on her. She glared back, unmoved. He tried again in a more serious tone, "There are some things I have to know. The tesseract. How do you know it wasn't what was used here?"

Darcy let out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling. "Because I know where it is."

"It could have been stolen," he pressed. "Would you know?"

"Definitely. It's not on Earth."

Howard chuckled. "We shoot it off to the moon or something?"

"Or something," she replied, the evasion obvious to Peggy, but Howard either didn't notice or ignored it. 

"Who finds it?" He asked. 

Darcy gave him a black look and pressed her lips together. He stared back at her until she finally gave in, her shoulders slumping. "You do."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you."

"Darcy, it's dangerous," Howard said, his face grim. "I need to get to it before somebody else does."

Her lips quirked up into a smirk Peggy found far too familiar. "Well, if time A is informed by time B, then you'll find it no matter what I say."

"But, what if you, in time B tell me and that's how I find it."

"Then A1 becomes A2, which is what I've been saying," Darcy told him, her voice rising to a near shout. 

"No, it means that effect preceded cause, but nothing's changed, because A is always there and B is always there," Howard argued back, throwing his arms wide.

"Oh God," Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose and gave Peggy a desperate look. 

Peggy wasn't following the conversation much better than Daniel had, but she recognized the plea for help and stepped forward, grabbing Howard's arm. "I don't know what you two are talking about, but perhaps this is a conversation better suited to a more private location."

Howard shook her off and reached his own hand out to Darcy, resting it on her shoulder. "Darcy. Just tell me."

"I can't. But, I …" Chewing at her lower lip she contemplated the room around them for a moment. "I know you're looking for Steve Rogers. Keep looking."

Peggy's breath caught and Howard's eyes widened, he leaned forward, grasping at Darcy's statement. "I find him?"

"I didn't say that," she said, shaking her head sharply. 

"It's implied."

"It really isn't." Rubbing a finger along her lower lip she watched him for a moment. "I have to tell you to keep doing what you'd do anyway. And wouldn't you? Wouldn't you keep looking?" He took a deep breath and looked down at his shoes. Darcy touched the back of his hand on her shoulder. "This is my life, Howard. Please, please, don't screw it up."

He chewed on his mustache for a moment then let out a long breath. "Schmidt had the tesseract on the bomber."

"Yes."

"Okay. Okay, I'll keep looking."

"Thank you."

He gave her a small smile and squeezed her shoulder before letting his hand drop. "You're right. I'd keep looking anyway."

"Darcy," Peggy said, continuing on with her rescue, "why don't you try that shelf over there. I need to speak with Howard for a moment."

"Sure," she agreed with an easy shrug, clearly weary of the argument and drifting back into her own thoughts. She picked up a clipboard and walked away from them.

"I find him," he whispered to Peggy, his eyes lit with hope. 

"It really wasn't implied, Howard," she told him, patting his arm with a gentle touch. Letting go was never easy, but it was time. Past time, perhaps. Steve would hate for them to mourn forever. 

He turned and sat back against the crate with a sigh. "She's right about one thing; this is a mess. I don't even know where to begin. She didn't get a look at whatever it was that sent her back. It was in a box. The only thing we have to go on is that the light looked like the cube's light. We're pretty sure it's got something to do with proximity, too; the device in the future tied to itself in the past, so we're thinking it has to be something here." He waved a hand at the warehouse. "It could be anything."

"You'll get it," Peggy told him stoutly. "I know you will. And with two of you, I can't imagine anything you couldn't manage."

He gave her a crooked smile. "You don't buy she's my granddaughter."

"I didn't," she admitted. "And it's still difficult to believe. But, I can't reasonably ignore that she knows things nobody should or even _could_ know. And she's got some of your looks, your expressions." She leaned back against the crate next to him and asked the question that had run through her head all night. "What decided you? It was quick. I'd have expected you to be more skeptical."

He chuckled and gave her an amused look. "I would, too. I knew she was smart when I walked in. That note she sent me, I'd been chewing on that problem for a while. Her solution isn't complete, but it's a damned good start. How could she have known what I was working on?"

"Industrial espionage?" Peggy asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Nope," he said and tapped his temple. "I do a lot of work up here before I start drawing up schematics."

"Well, there are plenty of clever people who are not your granddaughter from the future."

Howard laughed and looked over his shoulder at Darcy as she opened boxes and made notes on her clipboard. "I don't know. There was something familiar about her. Weirdest thing. When she said I was her grandfather, it was crazy, but … well, I can't really explain it. I see me when I look at her. It's a damned funny feeling."

"You seem to be getting along well."

"Oh boy," he snorted, amused. "She doesn't pull her punches, I'll tell you that. And doesn't give an inch." Raising an eyebrow at her, he said, "Reminds me of another feisty brunette, I know."

Peggy rolled her eyes. "I am not her grandmother."

He bumped her shoulder with his, then straightened up and turned back to the crate. "Just yanking your chain, pal." 

"What are we going to do with her in the mean time?" Peggy asked, moving to help him with the lid. "Thompson still wants to talk to her. And he's going to set Sousa digging."

"She'll be safe with me, and Thompson can blow it out his ass," Howard said, making a rude noise at the mention of Thompson. 

"Being overtly confrontational will not help this situation," Peggy warned, exasperated by his perpetual intransigence. 

"Well, geez, Peg, what do you want us to do?" He said banging a hand down on the edge of the crate, still perched on the edge of frustration from his argument with Darcy. 

Peggy watched him for a moment, considered the man before her. He liked a puzzle, that's why he'd come here in the first place, and now with a displaced granddaughter and a mystery of time, he was fully engaged, but the reality of the task in front of them was finally settling on his shoulders, darkening his mood. Darcy's reluctance to share details about the future was bothering him, too. Peggy was of a mind that the future was not meant to be known, but the promise of knowledge was too much for Howard. 

"Why doesn't she stay with me?" She suggested. "We've more than enough room in the penthouse. Angie wouldn't mind, either, I'm certain. Then I can tell Thompson I'm keeping a close eye on the girl. He won't have a difficult time believing you're leaving your _cousin_ with a trained agent you trust. Especially if you suspect a security breach on your side."

"I guess," he muttered. 

"I suggest we keep up the story of her aversion to the public eye," Peggy continued. "But the closer you two are, the more you're seen together, the more people will talk. And you know the sorts of things they'll say. You _are_ too much in the spotlight for us to keep this quiet otherwise."

Howard made a face and let out a long breath. "You're right." He turned to look at her, brows lowered, expression intense. "You'll keep an eye on her?"

"Both eyes," she promised without hesitation. "But, if she's telling the truth, she's a trained agent, as well. More than capable of minding herself."

"Sure, but this isn't her world. You know what she said when I asked her why she didn't just call me directly?" Peggy shook her head and Howard smirked. "She couldn't remember how the long distance exchanges worked, and didn't want to make anybody more suspicious."

"Ah," Peggy said with a nod of her own. How had things changed in 70 years? Even daily things that one took for granted were sure to be profoundly different across more than half a century. The world must look baffling to her. 

Howard's mood shifted, mercurial as ever, and he grinned at her. "But think of it Peggy, she's an agent. See what you started?"

Peggy bowed her head and let out a reluctant laugh; it wasn't a terrible thought really. "I guess so."

"Buck up, pal. She's full of interesting little tidbits when she doesn't think they'll change the timeline." He rolled his eyes. "I still think she's wrong about that."

"How long did you talk to her this morning?" Peggy asked curiously. 

"A couple hours while we were waiting for the doc to spring her and you two to turn up. We had an absolutely revolting breakfast in the cafeteria." He shrugged. "She didn't sleep well. I admit, I didn't either. Too many things going on up here." He tapped his temple again and lifted a Hydra weapon out of the crate, checking that its power cell was inert. 

"Did you pester the poor girl to tell you the future the whole time?" Peggy asked, giving him a sharp poke in the side. No wonder Darcy looked tense. The last thing she needed was to be badgered by her grandfather. 

"No," he said quickly. Too quickly. He put down one weapon and picked up another. "Well, maybe a little bit, but she shut that down pretty quick. Then we talked about family over runny eggs and burnt toast. She told me some things about my history, my parents, that not many people would know. And we talked about her other parents. She's got a younger brother Sam. He studies paleontology. We even talked about Jarvis a little bit."

"Hey, Howard," Darcy called out. 

"Yeah?" He set the rifle down and turned to her. 

"There's something missing." She waved a hand at the shelf she was examining. "A something something German something."

He walked over with a laugh, Peggy following behind. "You don't speak German?"

Shaking her head, she told him, "Spanish, Japanese, and Russian."

"Geez, don't let the Russian out, Thompson will sell you up the river as a spy for sure." He took the clipboard from Darcy and examined the empty shelf. 

"This Thompson guy sounds like a real winner. Can't wait to meet him," Darcy said with a snort. 

Peggy grimaced. "Let's delay that as long as possible," she suggested with a tight smile. She didn't know Darcy well, but if she was indeed anything like Howard, the combination would be volatile. 

"Huh," Howard grunted as he scanned through the inventory list on the clipboard. "It's a power conversion unit. One piece of the set-up Schmidt used to transfer the tesseract energy."

Peggy straightened at that, alarmed by the possibility something like that could walk off, and peered over his shoulder at the page. "And it's missing?"

Darcy shrugged. "I'm not seeing it."

"Damn," Peggy grumbled. "When was the last check?"

"First of the month," Howard said pointing to the date on the inventory sheet.

"Daniel?" Peggy called. Sousa looked up from his own inventory and nodded back at her. "We've got a missing item. A big one."

The other agent came over to them and made his own examination of the records. "How bad is this?"

"Very bad," Howard said in a grim tone. "Very, very bad. It means there could be somebody out there trying to make tesseract-based weapons." 

Daniel winced and looked at Darcy. "You think this is why they took you?"

"If I could remember who _they_ are, I would guess it might be. I don't know what they thought I could do for them, though," she said, her voice ragged and tired. 

Howard shrugged and drummed his fingers on the empty metal shelf. "Maybe they thought you'd know how to use it."

"I don't." Darcy shook her head, looking rueful. "Do you?"

"I know some of it," Howard told her. "The whole thing's not here, though. I don't know if we ever did get it all, but I've got a few pieces of another one of the units myself."

Darcy sighed and rubbed her hands down her arms, as though warding off a chill. "It can't be a coincidence that I turned up here and it turned up missing."

Peggy considered the pair. They played the game easily, no hesitation in their fabricated history, but enough truth in it that the lie was seamless. There was no obvious awkwardness between them, either. If she didn't know better, she'd say they'd known each other for longer than a day. Perhaps that shouldn't be a surprise; Howard had a way with people, and if Darcy was an agent, she'd know how to play a role. 

"So somebody did break in," Daniel said, sounding relieved. It did settle one part of the mystery. Peggy could see his thought process; 'they' kidnap Darcy, thinking she might know what Howard knew, then realize Darcy isn't any use to them, so they knock her over the head and leave her to deal with the consequences. And she was back, firmly, in the category of victim. 

"I bet they powered it up. Or tried to," Howard said, his voice low, and he and Darcy exchanged a loaded look. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and looked faintly ill. 

"How big was it?" Daniel asked. 

Howard held his hands out to something the size of a large suitcase. "Bout this."

"Heavy?"

"Very."

Sousa nodded slowly and frowned over at Peggy. "So we've got a team of guys, has to be three or four easy, who kidnap Miss Lewis, then come up here to break into the camp, then into a secure facility to steal this, whatever it is."

"Power conversion unit," Howard said. 

"Right. Big and heavy. So they'd need in and they'd need out, plus transport. And nobody spotted them. Miss Lewis was found the next morning, when day shift came on duty and did their rounds," Sousa continued, ticking off each point on a finger. 

"That's about the size of it. It's a hell of a conundrum," Howard pronounced brightly. Peggy kicked him in the ankle. 

"I'd suggest at least one man inside," Peggy said, still glaring at Howard, ignoring his wounded look. It was no good if he started baiting Daniel, too.

"Alright," Sousa said, his shoulders squaring as he worked out the next steps in the investigation. "I'll get a duty roster for that night, start interviewing the men, and talk to the MPs again."

"I'm going to go with Howard and Miss Lewis," Peggy said. She felt a tiny bit badly about leaving this end of the investigation to Daniel, but there was little she could do here that would actually be useful to Howard and Darcy; they had to sell Howard's outrage and that was better managed at close range. With the revelation of the break-in, this all became even more complicated, but she had absolute confidence in Daniel's ability to sniff out the traitor at Pine Camp. "I'll see if I can get more information on the day she was taken. This all started in Manhattan. I want to know who the mysterious 'they' might be."

"Could be our not so friendly chumps from earlier in the year," Daniel suggested. "We never did get to the people behind that." 

"Who?" Darcy asked, leaning towards him, curiosity on her face. 

"A group calling themselves Leviathan," Peggy said. "Have you heard of them?"

Something flickered in her eyes, some spark of knowledge, but she held onto the puzzled frown on her face and shook her head. "No."

"They're bad news, sweetheart." Howard crossed his arms and glowered at Daniel. "If it's them, then I want Darcy safe. Nobody was supposed to know she's my cousin. Hell, nobody was supposed to know I had a cousin."

Peggy braced herself; Howard picked his moment, and now they'd really begin to weave this mad web. She'd hoped for more time to set it up, but there was no help for that.

"We can take her into protective custody," Daniel offered. 

"The hell you will," Howard shot back, temper heating his voice. Peggy begged the universe to keep him from going too melodramatic and blowing the whole charade. His taste for showmanship could overrule his good sense. "There's a mole somewhere. The only other person who knew was Jarvis, and I trust him with my life and with Darcy's. How much work did the SSR do on me when you were investigating me for treason?"

"Now, wait just a minute," Daniel said, his own temper growing, but he seemed more bemused by the sudden confrontation than angry. "You're not suggesting the SSR had anything to do with this?"

"I'm not suggesting, I'm saying."

Peggy held up a hand between them, stepping forward to play her own part, and to try to keep Howard in check. He would surely enjoy slinging mud at the SSR a little too much. "That's enough. It's could just as easily be somebody in Stark Industries who overheard something, or saw something."

Setting his jaw, Howard made a show of his reluctant agreement with that suspicion. "You better believe I'm going to look there, too."

"Alright," Peggy said. "So, until we can sort this out, we all agree Miss Lewis needs to be someplace safe?"

"Yes," Howard said through clenched teeth.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed.

"Well, perhaps we can compromise, and she can stay with me," Peggy said, sounding enough like it _was_ a compromise that Daniel, hopefully, wouldn't be suspicious. "I can keep an eye on her. And very few people know where I'm staying."

"What about that roommate of yours?" Howard asked, a challenging tilt to his chin. 

Peggy gave him an affronted look. "Angie can keep a secret, and we needn't tell her who, exactly, Darcy is. She could be an old friend of mine who needs a place to stay for a while."

Darcy shifted her feet and glared around at all of them. "For what it's worth, not that anybody's asking my opinion here," she growled irritably, "but if they, whoever _they_ are, knew where I was enough to grab me, then I guess my apartment isn't safe. And if they know that much, then they'd suspect I'd stay with you, Howard. It's probably better if I go with Agent Carter."

Howard puffed out his cheeks and put a hand on her shoulder. "I can keep you safe."

Giving him a knowing and amused smile that told them she was well aware of Peggy and Howard's plan, she said, "I know you can. I'm counting on it."

"Alright, if that's settled," Peggy said, "Daniel, you go and check on that duty roster, we'll finish the inventory and then leave for the city. I'll update Thompson when we're back this evening."

Howard laughed. "It's seven hours, Peggy. I flew."

"Then this afternoon," Peggy corrected with a hard look at Howard. "Can we be about it already?"

Howard clapped his hands together and turned to Darcy. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Darcy rolled her eyes, took the clipboard back from Daniel, and waved at the shelves. "Well, I don't know what the hell you were doing, but I was right here."

"Still saucy," Howard laughed and leaned over her shoulder to look at the inventory, then pointed at one end of the shelf. "I'll start here, you start there. We'll finish in no time."

Peggy shook her head and let out a weary breath, then walked with Daniel to the door of the bunker. "They're going to drive me mad," she told him in a low voice.

He laughed and gave her a look that said he thought she asked for it. "I think you'll be okay. She doesn't seem so bad. Shaken, though."

"Definitely shaken. Quiet, too, which will be nice coming from a Stark," Peggy said with a resigned smile. 

"She's tough, though," Daniel said, frowning over at the girl. "Thought for sure you were right, that she'd served. She's got that way, doesn't she?"

"She does," Peggy agreed. _Agent_ Lewis definitely had experience coping with odd events and the bearing that went with that. What those experiences might be, Peggy couldn't say. Though, she was more than a little interested in hearing more about her destruction of a Hydra facility. "From the little she and Howard said, I gather she was part of the war effort, if not in uniform."

"Ah," Daniel said with a nod. "That makes sense. Stark being a contractor, and all. I guess she would have worked with him."

"Yes. I suppose she did."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. "You really never knew about her?"

"I swear to you, I never did," she assured him with absolute sincerity. "I was as surprised as you were. He never said a word; I thought his family were all gone. Apparently, she prefers a quieter life than Howard does." 

"Can't say I blame her," Daniel said. "Just watching him in the newsreels makes me tired."

"Lord," she groaned. "Try working with him."

"I'll leave that to you." He took a step out the door and stopped. "Can I help you, Sergeant?"

The young Sergeant from the night before was standing a few feet away. "Yes, sir, I just wanted to see how Miss Lewis was doing. Doctor Kovac said he released her this morning."

Peggy smiled in disbelief and shook her head. In the span of a day, Darcy had managed to charm the doctor, the nurses, and the Sergeant. If she had been a spy, she probably could have walked right out the door. Add in her quick ability to handle Howard, and that should all be very worrying. But, the idea that Darcy was Howard's granddaughter had begun to settle more easily in Peggy's mind. Not quite enough to drive off the niggling thought that perhaps they were all being manipulated by the woman. Peggy supposed the profound oddity of time travel as a story made it hard to shake the suspicion, but the fact remained that Darcy Lewis knew things nobody else could. Still, Peggy's offer that Darcy would stay with her was not made solely out of concern for her safety — Peggy wanted to get to know her, to try to understand this as well as she could. Her instincts said Darcy was sincere, but her rational mind demanded she be thorough. 

"She's a lot better," Daniel was telling the young man. 

"That's great to hear, sir," the Sergeant said with a bright grin.

Peggy cleared her throat. "She's helping us with our investigation right now. We've got her looking to see if anything is familiar. I'll tell her you're here, shall I, Sgt. Reilly?"

"If she's helping you, I don't want to be a bother," he gave her a sweet smile and ducked his head. "I just, well, I just wanted to check is all. She was pretty upset last night."

"She'd had a rough time of it," Peggy said evenly. Darcy was perhaps charming, but there was something about the Sergeant's manner that was not quite right. How long had he been standing by the door? And why didn't he announce himself? "A decent night's sleep seems to have done wonders."

"Best thing, my mom always said," he told her cheerfully. "You'll tell her I was by?

"Certainly."

"Thank you, ma'am, sir." The Sergeant gave them a salute and walked away. Peggy frowned after him.

"He was one of the guys who found her, right?" Daniel asked, he was also watching the young man. 

"He was," Peggy confirmed. 

He nodded and his jaw firmed up. "Maybe I'll start with him."

"I think that sounds like a fine idea," Peggy agreed. 

Daniel smiled back at her. "I'll see you back in Manhattan."

"If I find anything before you're done here, I'll phone," she promised.

Tossing her an insolent salute of his own, mimicking the Sergeant and making her snort an un-lady-like laugh, Daniel started after the fellow. Peggy turned back to Howard and Darcy, catching the rise and fall of their voices as they bickered about something else. Sighing, she walked over to them. Whatever was going on, she hoped they could sort it quickly; two Starks was more than any one person should have to endure, however charming they might be. Peggy made a mental note to remember to ask Darcy about her mother; perhaps she could get some tips from the woman who'd raised a Stark with a Stark. She must have nerves of steel. 

"You are a ridiculous man," Darcy growled when Howard laughed at something. 

Peggy smiled and stepped up to them. "I've been saying that for years. So, where are we?"

"Darcy here says there aren't any flying cars in the future," Howard exclaimed sounding somehow offended. 

"They exist, but they're not practical," Darcy muttered and gave Peggy an exasperated look. 

"How are they not practical?"

"Oh, good Lord," Peggy grumbled and snatched the clipboard from Howard. "Back to work."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, crazy couple weeks at work.

"Go away, Howard," Peggy had a hand between Howard's shoulder blades and was shoving him towards the door of the penthouse.

"But—"

"No. Go on. We'll be perfectly fine."

Darcy stood in the foyer and watched, entirely entertained and amused. For her whole life Howard had been this monolithic figure towering over her and her father. It was nice to see him human-sized and being pushed around, literally, by Peggy Carter.

"I just want to—" Howard spun away from her shove and came back towards Darcy while Peggy huffed, irritated. "You need clothes." He pulled out his wallet and handed her a handful of bills. "Think that'll do it?"

Darcy took the bills and counted out almost two hundred dollars. "Uh, I don't know. I have no idea what things cost today. Well, not clothes." God knew you couldn't get Steve to stop shaking his head at the price of a movie ticket or a cup of coffee. Though he'd stopped actually griping out loud after she and Natasha started responding with their own 'back in my day' stories that grew in ridiculousness until he just glowered silently.

Oh, God. Steve. Darcy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Not now. Not yet.

Peggy looked over the funds and nodded, grabbing Howard's shoulder and starting him back towards the door. "That's more than enough to get everything she'll need for a while."

"I could come with you," he called over his shoulder.

"We'll manage ourselves," Peggy said, giving him a push all the way out the door. "If you're feeling generous later, you can have a shopping trip."

"But—"

"You'll see her tomorrow."

"What if I don't? What if she vanishes in a puff of smoke?" He waved his hands, dramatically creating that puff of vanishment.

Darcy rolled her eyes and laughed. Peggy shook her head. "Then you've been very blessed to have a day to pester her. Go away. I have to get to work and Miss Lewis needs some time."

"Oh, alright." His shoulders slumped. "Call Jarvis if you need anything."

With a smile, Darcy said, "I promise. Thank you. Sorry again, Mr. Jarvis."

"Quite alright, miss," Jarvis told her with a tight smile. He'd tried to wake her when they landed and Darcy had been so caught in twisting dark dreams of Hydra bases that she'd struck out as she came awake. She punched him in the solar plexus and left him wheezing and wincing for a good five minutes. All those sleep-stalking lessons from Natasha had obviously made her more dangerous than she realized.

Peggy shut the door on the two men, threw the bolt and the chain, then turned and leaned back against the door, giving Darcy a look of pure exasperation. "That man."

"He was just being nice."

"He was, but give him an inch …," she warned, pushing off the door and starting across the foyer. "Let me show you around, shall I?"

Darcy followed Peggy through the penthouse as she pointed out the rooms, finally leading her to a bedroom. Opening the door, Darcy stepped in and looked around. It was a comfortable space with a queen-sized bed, a vanity and dresser, a small armoire, an arm chair, a long, narrow side table against the wall with a radio and a telephone. "It's nice."

"It's the smallest, I think," Peggy said, sounding a touch apologetic. "Probably not what you're used to."

Darcy smiled and looked back at her. "It's not like I brought a lot with me." She waved a hand at the room. "It's perfect, really."

"Well, you're certainly easier to please than your grandfather."

"Still don't buy it?"

Peggy laughed and stepped back into the hallway, Darcy following her. "I'm starting to see the resemblance here and there. I don't think you're lying. I think it's a daft story, but, I have to admit, I have lived a daft story or two of my own."

Peggy led them back to the living room, and Darcy drifted over to the windows to look down on the city below them.

"May I ask a question?"

Darcy turned and leaned back against the sill. "Sure."

Peggy prefaced her question with a very serious look and a raised hand. "If I press on subjects I oughtn't, do let me know. And if Howard does, I'll get him to stop."

"I think I can handle Howard, but when I'm ready to strangle him, I'll give you a call first."

"Oh, that feeling, I know it all too well," Peggy smiled ruefully and settled herself on the couch. "My question, you said you're an agent. May I ask what sort?"

"I started out as a liaison."

"To that group of special operators."

"That's right."

"And then you left?"

"Well, no," Darcy laughed. "I lied to you a little bit."

Peggy's eyebrow went up and her eyes widened with mock astonishment. "Oh, just a little?"

Darcy grinned and held up a hand, her index and thumb a hair's-breadth apart. "A tiny bit."

"I am a federal agent, that is a punishable offense, Miss Lewis," Peggy said with an officious, yet amused, air.

With a snort, Darcy pushed off the sill and dropped into the armchair across from Peggy. "Please don't arrest me, copper. Also, please call me Darcy."

Peggy nodded. "So, liaison. An administrative agent?"

"At first. I was trained, but I never really thought of becoming a field agent. I went out a few times during training, but I always had my training officers there. A former assassin, and a sniper."

Blinking at that, Peggy gave her a respectful tip of the chin. "Well, that certainly covers a lot of ground."

"Certainly a lot more than I expected." She shook her head and rolled her eyes thinking of some of the other questionable exercises Natasha and Clint came up with. "But, it's all come in handy, I guess."

"But, you are field capable?"

Darcy nodded slowly, the point of Peggy's questioning coming clear. "Can I take care of myself? Yes. For the last year, I've been more active in the field. My partner and I work directly for the Director."

"Ah, you've a partner."

"Yes." Darcy put her elbow on the armrest and set her chin in her hand, looking away towards the window. She couldn't … couldn't think of him. Steve, she could pretend he was asleep in the ice. But Bucky … Pressing her lips together she took a steadying breath. She needed time to think everything through. 1946 was a minefield.

"Darcy?"

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked about your partner. If you don't want to tell me —"

Swallowing heavily, Darcy rubbed at her cheek and sat back. "He's former army. Sniper and tactician."

"And your specialty?"

"You don't know?" Darcy laughed. Peggy raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Obfuscation and deflection. I'm good at being unnoticed. Or, I used to be. Somehow you all spotted me here."

"Spotted how?"

"Everybody kept asking if I've served."

"Oh, that." Peggy waved a hand. "You've a way about you. A bearing, I suppose. And, despite your situation, you've been more or less unflustered."

That drew a huff of self-effacing laughter out of Darcy. "My outburst about how you take your tea was unflustered?"

"Perhaps not, but you were under stress and reacting. I've seen that before. Men who've been under fire, or," Peggy gave Darcy a look, "who were held by the enemy."

"Oh," she said simply. That made far too much sense. A panic attack was hard to miss if you knew what one looked like. "I guess this close to the war, that stands out more."

"I suppose it does. And you were with people who'd served or had been around those who did."

"I guess. Still, I'm not used to people noticing me like that."

Peggy smirked and suggested, "I'd say you could wring your hands more, maybe a bit of teary-eyed sniffling. Fainting works. Men always go soft over a good faint."

With a sour face at that thought, Darcy shook her head and said, "I'll save that as the last ditch option."

Peggy watched her for a while, and Darcy stared back towards the windows trying desperately not to think about Bucky while Peggy was there. She felt like she'd fall to pieces the second she really tried to sort through where he was, and the last thing she wanted to do was turn into a blubbering mess in front of Peggy Freaking Carter. Definitely not while she still hadn't sorted out what she could or couldn't say, what she might or might not change, how a different future might play out, and if she even had the right to consider any of that.

"You do realize Hydra will be curious about you," Peggy said after a moment.

"I know. I busted their heist." Darcy turned back to her and blew out an exasperated breath. "How long would that theft have gone unnoticed otherwise? Weeks? Months? If it was me, I'd want to know who the mystery woman was who nearly blew my op, and certainly cost me time."

"I'd want to know what she could or couldn't say about my group," Peggy agreed.

"And who, exactly, she might have said any of that to."

"Could she identify anybody? Their man on the inside, perhaps?"

"Was she spying on the spies?"

"Exactly, did she follow them? From where?"

Darcy nodded and dropped her head back on the chair, looking vaguely ceiling-ward. "Howard was hardly subtle in his arrival."

"He never is. And you left with him; nobody missed that," Peggy pointed out. "I trust the CMO's discretion, but the rest of the hospital staff … people talk."

Drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair, Darcy considered the bad guys and their next move. "They'll watch his properties."

"Wait for a moment to approach you alone."

Forcing a smile, Darcy threw her hands up in a tiny cheer, "Yay."

With a roll of her eyes, Peggy huffed, "Perhaps now is not the best time to be flippant."

"It's all I've got," Darcy explained with a unconcerned twist of her lips. "I'm tapped out of anything else."

Peggy sighed and circled back to her original point — Darcy's ability to watch out for herself. "With a pair of snipers and an assassin around, I assume you know how to fire a weapon."

"I do."

"I'll give you my backup piece."

"Thanks."

The other woman stood and smiled down at her. "And, here, you seem unbothered by somebody after you. Not that I'm complaining or think you're wrong to go about things the way you are, I'm simply pointing out few people are quite so calm in these situations."

"You, at least, know I'm actually an agent."

"I do, but if you want to stay unnoticed, keep the situation close," she warned.

Darcy nodded and tossed her a sloppy salute. "Understood."

Peggy started out of the room but paused at the door. "May I ask one more question?"

"You can ask anything you want," Darcy told her easily. "I might not be able to say anything, but you can ask."

"Did you join your agency because of Howard? Is that how you ended up with that team?"

"I joined to help people who'd become my friends. And the man who recruited me; he, I don't know, had faith in me in a way I'd never really experienced before. I mean, I'm sure I got the position I had because of dad, but not because he told anybody to give it to me. He'd prefer, I think, if I was tucked up safe in an engineering lab somewhere." Darcy sat forward and flapped a hand in a vague gesture. "Nepotism sort of played a part, I won't lie. When the Director found out who I was, he wanted to keep me close, to make sure nobody could use me against my dad."

Peggy frowned at that, as though she found that hard to believe. "The agency didn't know who you were?"

"Nope," Darcy said with a firm shake of her head, but then she considered and smirked. "Well, actually, I guess somebody did know. But she never said."

It only took Peggy a second to grasp that and she tilted her head at Darcy. "Well, I'm not so bad at obfuscation myself."

Darcy gave her a nod back. "Clearly." She thought for a moment, the years playing out in her head, and then she laughed again. "How funny. I remember the first thing you said to me. You said, 'I've been waiting a long time to see you.' I thought you were just teasing my dad about him dragging his feet about introducing us. Now, though…"

"I suppose that means we get you home."

"I guess," Darcy said, but felt far less certain. All it really meant was that she left 1946.

Pursing her lips, Peggy nodded thoughtfully, "I've got to go, I'll leave you a set of nightclothes and my gun. Angie had an audition this afternoon and then she's working an evening shift at the diner. I think that ought to give you a few hours of quiet. If I was you, I'd need some time to think through everything, and I doubt you've had that."

"I really haven't," Darcy admitted, dropping her eyes down to her hands. As much as she needed to think about everything, she was dreading it, too.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Peggy said, giving her one last smile before she left the room.

She listened as Peggy left, sitting quietly, holding that mountain of overwhelming reality at bay for just a moment longer. And then, finally, alone with her thoughts, in the silent penthouse, Darcy shifted restlessly and tried to ignore the temptation of calling Howard and having him come back. Anything for a distraction. With a sigh, she stood up and walked to the windows, looking out at the strange familiar city again. From up here you couldn't see the differences so much. The people were indistinct, the cars, too. It might have been any day in any of 70 years.

70 years. Oh, Lord, there was so much packed in there. For a moment she cast a look around the room; finding the writing desk, she wandered over but didn't sit. It would help to write this out. Help right up until the moment Howard found the pages and she undid her own existence.

"Think, McFly," she mumbled to herself and made a circuit of the room, preparing to pace out each thought in lieu of writing them out.

"Okay, so easiest first? Worst first?"

Worst brought to mind Bucky. And that _was_ the worst. Or was it how Hydra would send him to murder Howard? It was a big, snarled, thorny ball of worst. There was no avoiding the thought, though. Hydra had Bucky. They'd had him for two years by now. Was he the Winter Soldier yet? She'd been putting together his file for SHIELD, but she'd only gone back through to the mid-60s so far. It was tedious, horrible work. Her heart twisted in her chest at the thought of everything he would endure.

But, she couldn't do anything about Bucky. Not right now. She had no idea where he was and, even if she could do something, she wasn't sure she should. Of course, that meant condemning him to seven decades of brutality and torture. But, was Howard right? Was it already done? Immutable fate? Since in the future he was the Winter Soldier, did that mean that even if she tried to save him she was doomed to fail? Bucky Barnes _would_ be the Winter Soldier, he _would_ be Hydra's weapon, he _would_ murder Howard and Maria. God, that was terrible. That whole line of thought was sickening and she felt the bile burn its way up her throat.

Fighting back the nausea, she tapped her fingers on the window sill. So, what was the point of anything?

Taking one last look out the window, she crossed to the other side of the room in a slow, meandering path, looking over the furnishings, the decor, the richness of the space. She ran her hand along the edge of a picture frame, brushed her fingers against the dark mahogany of a sideboard, and tried to remember if she even knew when Howard sold this property. They certainly didn't have it anymore. Tony made a point of making sure Darcy knew what was in the family holdings. The yearly review was an exercise in tedium, but Pepper wouldn't let either of them out of it, even after Tony lost his enthusiasm for ensuring his heir knew what they had.

And that brought her back to Howard. There was no avoiding the truth that she'd already given him a glimpse at the future. She existed, she told him who she was, in her confusion, sickness, and desperation, she hadn't seen any better way to get his help. He knew he would have a son, he knew he would found SHIELD, he knew he would find the Tesseract. Did that all mean she had a hand in her own existence?

She'd tried not to say too much, she'd tried to not give him the idea that he found Steve, but did she still give too much away? Did he become, by her intervention, so driven in his search, and then in his desire to build the SHIELD she'd told him was a reality, that he neglected his son? Neglected a son who would act out, who would be reckless and self-destructive, starved for his father's attention, and who would then, in the grief of the aftermath of his parents' deaths, have a drunken one-night stand with a certain Rebecca Perlman? Or was that just the kind of man he was? God knew she was familiar with driven Starks.

Oh, God, this was too much. Too many lines of causality. Too much probability. What she wouldn't give for AI Jarvis to help her untangle it all. Play out the odds, the chances, the big universe of cause and effect, backwards and forwards, the future to the past, the past to the future, the uncountable millions of moments and choices that led to Darcy Lewis standing in Howard's penthouse in 1946. But, not even her Jarvis was that good. She was on her own.

Darcy wandered out of the living room, and ghosted through the rest of the penthouse. She found the kitchen and poked through the cabinets and fridge. It didn't look like Peggy and Angie ate in very often, all they had were some bare basics — bread, milk, butter, a couple boxes of cereal, a few tins of tea, and some cookies. But, there was also coffee and a very vintage electric percolator. Still worn from her arrival in 1946, coffee seemed to Darcy like not only a good, if temporary, distraction, but also a vital necessity.

Figuring out the percolator and making the coffee took up a handful of minutes. When the coffee was done, she took her cup to the small, formica-topped kitchen table and contemplated the very clean, very white kitchen with a sigh. Her brain was clearly done with its break, and before her coffee had even cooled enough to allow her a first sip, she was back into the swirling muddle of 70 years.

Being in Peggy's home, which also happened to be Howard's penthouse, led her thoughts inevitably to Steve. How could she keep lying about Steve? This was where she felt the danger of changing things, the very real risk that this was the subject she was most likely to slip up on. Darcy knew exactly where he was.

Was it kind or cruel to tell Peggy Carter that Steve Rogers was alive? That he would be found decades from today. Was it kind or cruel to let her keep thinking he was dead? Was that better? Was that worse? And Steve; was it cruel to keep him from the woman he'd loved so dearly? To leave him in his icy slumber because maybe, just maybe, the future needed him more than the past? Because, who would fight the Chitauri? Hydra? Who would pull the Avengers into a team who could face the threats of the future? Did she have a right to make that decision for him?

Chancing the coffee was cool enough, she took a sip from her cup and winced at the bitterness not even milk and sugar could blunt. She'd brewed it too long. Would she be here long enough to get the hang of making coffee properly in a percolator? And that brought another aspect of her current reality to mind. She didn't know how to live in 1946. What she knew came from books, movies, and some of the things Steve talked about. But, Steve was a dude, and she'd never thought to ask him what he learned from the showgirls he traveled with in the USO. Though, picturing what his face would do if she asked, was enough to finally bring a smile to her lips, if only for a couple seconds.

The reality was she was in a foreign country. While she might be able to figure out what was in fashion and she knew some lingo from her old-timey guys, she didn't know how to do her hair up right, or what women did about other necessities, or a hundred things that would probably sneak up and bite her in the ass. Peggy and Jarvis would help her, and she was plenty capable of observing and figuring things out on her own, but she needed to come up with some sort of plausible explanation for those moments she couldn't cover, when the glaring weirdness of her ignorance couldn't be avoided.

With a sigh, she took another gulp of coffee, womanfully refusing to grimace at the taste, and resolved not to freak out about daily life in the post-war 40s. She'd just have to roll with things as well as she could, and lie her ass off, or laugh at her backwards ways, when she had to. She still needed to sort out Steve, the Avengers, and their place in her world; she had no bandwidth free to give to the mysteries of things like bus tokens and long-distance phone calls.

If there was only one thing she could be certain about, it was that she couldn't change the Chitauri invasion. Everything leading to that were events beyond her control. Thor's exile to Earth was motivated by forces on Asgard. Loki being a crazy jackass was nothing she could do anything about. It's not like she could call up Odin and say 'hey, your youngest? He's totally going try to take over Midgard in 60-something years. Could you maybe sit on that little shithead?' And wasn't Frigga supposed to have some sort of foresight, anyway? Now there was somebody she'd love to be able to talk to. But, maybe she'd just say some things were just bigger than any one individual could do anything about. That seemed like the sort of thing some wise and ancient Goddess would tell her. True, maybe, but not helpful.

In the end, all of that meant that the Chitauri would still try to invade. The Avengers needed their leader. No offense to her dad, but it wasn't him. At least he knew it. It wasn't Clint or Natasha or Bruce, either. Thor had bigger, realm-spanning responsibilities, too. And beyond the Avengers and aliens, closer to home, if she couldn't save Bucky in 1946, then Steve needed to be there in the future to break Hydra's control. Steve absolutely had to be there to give Bucky a place to go home to when he finally did. The future needed Steve Rogers too much. And, frankly, so did she. As selfish as it felt to consider it, he was her other bestie, her sounding board, and frankly, the balance her father needed.

She drained her cup, shuddered, made a face, and stood up to rinse it out and clean up after herself. That done, she found herself at a loss again. She spun around the spotless kitchen, and when she couldn't ignore that there was nothing for her to do, her shoulders fell and she shuffled out.

Darcy poked into some of the other rooms Peggy had only pointed out, and found a small study. It was a rather spare room, with a couple bookshelves, an ugly bust of some guy she couldn't identify, dark, heavy wood panelling and furniture, and not much else. It was a decidedly masculine space, though she doubted Howard ever spent any time in here. Taking a seat at the leather topped desk, she twisted back and forth in the chair, feeling like a little girl sneaking into her grandfather's office. With a little laugh at herself, she pulled open drawers, exploring the desk, but there wasn't much beyond some pads of paper, pencils and pens, and a ledger with a few receipts for local shops tucked inside. Jarvis probably used the room as his place to manage the penthouse bills and accounts. But there wasn't really anything personal here.

Bored with the room, she spun in the chair a couple more times, then leaned back and looked out the windows again, this time taking in the slightly shorter skyline. It still looked like New York, though, and that was steadying.

With her thoughts moving on past Steve and her failure to entirely resolve what to do about him, her mind drifted to Hydra. Now was that something she could do anything about? What sort of something? Would she inadvertently make it worse? If Howard and Peggy start to try to sniff out Hydra sooner, would Hydra move earlier and kill Howard before Tony was born, thus undoing her own existence again? And she didn't even know who was Hydra in SHIELD in the late 40s. Hell, she didn't know who all was Hydra in 2014 when they did finally make their move. If she found one or two, great, but what about the other hundred she didn't know? Could she warn them about Pierce? Obie? Should she?

Geez, Pierce couldn't be more than a little kid right now. Obie wouldn't even be born for another couple years. What, exactly, could or would they do about a kid? And besides that, Pierce was the one who made Fury the Director, and while Darcy and Fury might not always get along, he was a good Director, and a good man. He was Pierce's undoing.

Obie … oh, God, she didn't even know how to begin there. Was he always a scumbag or did he turn dirty over the years? As much as she truly, deeply hated him, this was a part of her own life and his betrayal was a part of her own resolve to stand and fight. Could she undo that part of her personal past? Who would she be without it?

Even if she did reveal Pierce and Obie, and somebody was able to keep an eye on them as they grew to adulthood, what's to say that somebody else wouldn't just take their places? Somebody worse? Worse was hard to imagine, but not impossible. Maybe they change plans and when Hydra finally does strike, SHIELD and the Avengers would be in no position to stop them. Hell, maybe the Avengers wouldn't even exist, maybe the next Hydra guy in charge doesn't make the mistake of hiring Fury.

So, perhaps she could fix things for the better, but far more terrifying was the probability she would fix things catastrophically. There was no way to know. No way for her to understand well enough how far she could or should go without destroying everything. If she was right and she could change the future, then every little change she made now would ripple out to a point where she could no longer guess what would happen. Each tiny decision made branched into the possibility of every decision that could be made — go left instead of right, wear polka dot socks instead of striped, rush out the door or linger over coffee — and almost immediately cause and effect spun away from her ability to know what would happen next.

Pushing herself out of the chair, she left the study and made another pass through the penthouse, before she wound her way back to the living room. Exhausted, she dropped onto the couch and lay back, draping her arm across her forehead. This was a mess.

She hadn't even begun to consider things like Coulson and Skye and all that. If there's no Fury, or no Avengers, or Loki doesn't stab Phil, if he doesn't get that alien mojo to save his life, he doesn't find the alien city, Skye is never transformed, and Trip survives. But, what if he never forms the team? If SHIELD still falls, where is he? Does he die anyway, with no hope of resurrection? And what if Skye, without the protection of that team, is taken by Hydra and forced to transform? What if she is left alone to become another one of their powered lab rats? And nobody would ever know.

If that team is never formed, when SHIELD falls, what happens to May? And Fitz? And Simmons? Killed, captured, tortured? Would they escape? But into what kind of world? Hydra was on the run in part because of Phil's team. Was it worth letting Hydra fester in secret for decades for that day when they could finally be knocked back? She wasn't stupid enough to think they were really gone, because, it was like they said, step on one cockroach and two more shall take its place. But, their big move resulted in their biggest defeat since the second world war.

Beyond all that, too, there was this niggling, nagging thought that if she tried to fix things now, she would be stripping people of the choices they would get to make in the future. She had no right to take that from them. Because of Obie, Tony stood up and became a superhero, and she was so proud of him. Because SHIELD fell, maybe it would get to be reborn into what it was always meant to be, with Phil at the helm, with its heart and soul in place. Because the Avengers were formed, Natasha let herself step out of the shadows and it gave her the opportunity to balance her ledger, Bruce found a home, and Thor found more comrades to help him stand against his brother.

God, she couldn't do anything, could she?

And Bucky and Steve would be —

"Peggy? Hey English, you back yet?"

Darcy blinked up at the ceiling. The shadows had grown longer, the light in the room a fading blue. Taking a quick glance at the clock, she was surprised to see it was ten to four in the afternoon. Peggy'd left around 1:30. Had she really been thinking that long? Thinking and dithering and not having one single clue what to do, except nothing. Which sucked. Sitting up, she swung her legs off the couch.

"Hey, are you—" The woman stopped just inside the doorway and raised an eyebrow. Crossing her arms, she gave Darcy a good once over. "You are definitely not Peggy."

Darcy stood and tried not to feel like a complete interloper. She'd hoped Peggy would be home for this introduction, but who didn't love a good, awkward 'what are you doing in my house' intro? Besides, it made for a good distraction.

"I'm a friend of Peggy's. You must be Angie. Darcy Lewis." Stepping forward she stuck out her hand for the other woman to take.

Uncrossing her arms slowly, Angie took her hand in a brief shake. "Charmed, I'm sure. She didn't say anything about a friend."

"I'm sorry. It was really last minute," Darcy told her with an apologetic grimace. "I needed a place to stay for a while, and she offered to let me bunk here. She had to go into work, I don't know when she'll be back."

"Huh," Angie said and crossed the room to pick up the mail from the writing desk. Flipping through some envelopes, she tossed them aside, and grabbed up a magazine. "Well, the more the merrier, right?"

"I don't mean to intrude. She thought you probably wouldn't mind, but I didn't really give her the chance to ask you."

"Ah, never mind." Angie tossed her a smile and sat down in an armchair. "Take a load off. Oh, should I get you something? You want coffee or anything?" Angie started to get back up, but Darcy waved her down and retook her own seat on the couch.

"I'm fine," Darcy told her. "Peggy said you had an audition today. How'd that go?"

Angie blew a raspberry and flipped listlessly through the magazine. "Better luck next time, right?"

"Right," Darcy said slowly, wincing a little in sympathy. "Persistence, perseverance, all that stuff."

"Yeah, lots of pers. I'm getting good at those." She tossed the magazine on the table with a sigh. "They said I wasn't tall enough. I said, 'what's tall? I'm playing an urchin, how tall does that gotta be?' But, nope, they gave me the old heave-ho."

"Jerks," Darcy commented with a firm head nod.

"The biggest," Angie agreed. "So, how do you know Peggy?"

"That is a really long story," Darcy told her. They hadn't worked out what to say to Angie. Frankly, Darcy, preoccupied by everything else, hadn't even considered it. Rookie mistake, Lewis.

"I got time," the other woman said easily, slouching back in the chair and crossing her ankles comfortably.

"Peggy said you had to work tonight," Darcy commented, hoping it didn't sound like she was trying to weasel a way out of an explanation, while totally trying to weasel her way out of the explanation.

"Nah. I traded nights with Rose. She's got something I don't — a hot date." Angie rolled her eyes. "Too bad for her the guy's a total dud. I can smell it a mile off. All hot air. But, I won't complain about getting her Friday. Better tips."

"Really?"

"Payday, everybody's feeling flush, they don't mind dropping some spare coin, you know?" Shrugging, she nodded at Darcy. "What do you do?"

Darcy, who had never in her life had trouble spinning a tale, suddenly wasn't sure what to say. "Uh, I'm in engineering."

Angie gaped for a second. "Holy smokes, really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," she clicked her fingers as her eyes lit up, pieces clicking together in her head. "That's how you know Peg? From her work?"

"Well, sort of." And then she was hit with half an idea of how to get out of this. If Peggy trusted Angie, then Angie was worth trusting. And Darcy always preferred some variation on the truth. It was easier to remember than some twisting string of lies. "We've got a friend in common. Howard."

"No kidding? Well, what do you know. Nice guy, right? Put me up here as soon as the last place turned me out on my ear. I figure that was mostly Peg, but he didn't make any sort of fuss or anything." She pointed over to the desk. "There's a phone in every room, did you know that?"

"That seems like a lot of phones," Darcy commented mildly.

"I've called my mom from each of them."

Darcy chuckled and shook her head. "How'd she like that?"

Angie frowned. "She said she couldn't figure why anybody'd need more than one." Shaking off her bafflement at that, she grinned back at Darcy. "And how 'bout that Mr. Jarvis? Fresh pastries every morning. It's like living in heaven."

"Mr. Jarvis is a good sort," Darcy agreed. "I accidentally punched him and he apologized."

Angie laughed loudly and actually slapped her knee. "Oh, I could picture his face. What a thing. How'd you end up punching him, though?"

"I fell asleep on the plane, he tried to wake me, and I guess he startled me."

"Some reaction," Angie said, sounding impressed. "You were in the war, too, huh? Peggy gets tense sometimes, herself."

Caught out again. Darcy had to laugh at herself; 1946 was turning out to be humbling. "Some stuff just takes a while to shake, I guess."

"Guess, so." Angie nodded her agreement.

They fell into semi-awkward silence, and Angie leaned forward to grab her magazine again. Darcy tried to come up with some topic of conversation, but she was so far out of her depth in 1946. Maybe if she'd had more than a day to really let it sink in she'd feel steadier on her feet.

There was one thing that might help her feel a little more grounded. "Hey, so, how late do the shops stay open around here?"

"About six or so. Depends. Why?"

"Well, I had to leave where I was pretty suddenly," she explained with a shrug. "I didn't bring anything with me. Just the clothes on my back."

Angie gave her a look and whistled. "Boy, that's some kind of trouble. Guy problems?"

Darcy shook her head, and decided she may as well bring Angie in. This would be easier and far less likely to end in somebody feeling betrayed. No telling what Peggy would say, but she hadn't warned Darcy against talking to Angie. "Nothing like that. I just … well, it's like this. And this is just between you and me, right? And Peggy."

"Sure, sure. Whatever you got, consider it on the qt," Angie told her seriously, giving the arm of her chair a resolved thump.

Darcy nodded and raised an eyebrow as she said, "Howard is my cousin."

Blinking, her eyes wide, Angie stared at her slack-jawed for a second. "What?"

"Yeah, I know. Hard to believe."

"Hard? Sister, that is—"

"I like not being bothered by the news hounds, right? Nobody really knows. Except Mr. Jarvis. Anyway, somebody found out. I don't know how. I needed a place to get away to, and get away quick."

She looked like she couldn't quite wrap her head around the story, and Darcy didn't blame her. "Geez, and Howard couldn't do anything?"

"He is doing something; he's trying to figure out who knows who I am and how, so I can go home. But, until that happens, I can't stay with Howard, because he's too noticeable, you know? Peggy said I should stay with her; that I'd be safer with you two." Darcy tossed that last in, trying to appeal to Angie's sympathies and break through her disbelief. Maybe it was a little manipulative, but giving Angie a role, giving her a sense of being part of things, would mean there was another set of eyes keeping watch. And if this mess came to the penthouse — and Darcy sincerely prayed it wouldn't — Angie would have some forewarning.

Angie stared at her for a moment, and then her lips thinned and her chin firmed up. "Any friend of Peggy's. Nobody's going to give you a hassle here, or they'll have to deal with me. I get plenty of guff at work, but off the clock, I don't take it."

Darcy smiled at her, genuine and grateful. She could see why Peggy liked Angie and trusted her. She had an easy manner, but was no dummy. No dainty, demure little thing was Angie. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She tossed away her magazine again and looked at the clock. "If we're gonna get you some new duds, we ought to go now."

"Sure." Darcy stood up. "I don't mean to take up your night off, so just a few things. I can go shopping more tomorrow or something."

Angie waved her hand and stood up, as well. "If you're gonna shop, you've gotta do it whole heartedly. No point otherwise. Besides, what am I gonna do tonight? I was just going to listen to the radio, read a little, and I can do that any night. Besides, sounds like we both had a lousy day. Nothing like some shopping to make you feel like a new woman."

"Let me leave Peggy a note, so she doesn't think I've been kidnapped or something."

"Good idea. I'll get my handbag. Meet you at the door."

Laughing to herself, Darcy jotted a quick note for Peggy. She had a feeling shopping with Angie was going to be an adventure all its own. And maybe actually getting out into 1946, moving through the city and the day as a part of it, not a distant observer, taking a hand in those daily life mysteries, and she _would_ feel like a new woman, or at least, a woman not entirely lost in time. Maybe that was a big ask for shopping, but it wouldn't hurt to try, and she was pretty sure Angie would do her best.


	6. Chapter 6

Darcy ducked into the alley to her left, sprinting down the uneven pavement, until she came to an ungainly halt at the barricading fence. She was not used to running in heels, even low and sensible as they were, and she lost her balance, pitching forward, grasping at the chain link and swearing under her breath. She looked past the fence, to the figure in the brown suit skidding around the next turn out of sight. 

She pounded on the rattling chain link in useless frustration. "Mother—"

"What the absolute bloody hell are you doing?" Peggy shouted from the mouth of the alley. Darcy lowered her head and took a deep breath, before spinning around and stomping towards the other agent. 

"I almost had him."

"And then what?" Peggy threw her arms up in the air and turned back towards the street. 

"And then I find out where they're holing up," Darcy groused. 

Peggy gave her a dark look as they walked down the sidewalk. "I told you not to bait them."

"It's been three weeks," Darcy shouted and went to run a hand through her hair but stopped herself short. Hairdos in 1946 were no joke, it took her forever to do it up every stinking day. Angie'd showed her a few things, but Darcy didn't want to let on just how little she knew. It was easier at the hairdresser; she could pretend she was some country bumpkin who wanted to be up on the latest New York fashion. And she'd taken to scouring fashion magazines for tips and tricks. Anything to blend better. Still, it was a pain in the ass, and she really, really wanted to go home and pull on a pair of sweat pants and a ratty old t-shirt and leave her hair down and know that nobody would care in the least. 

Reigning in her own temper, Peggy let out a long breath and put a hand on Darcy's shoulder, steering her across the street. "We've got leads. We talked about this."

"You and Howard talked about this, I didn't agree to anything," Darcy said with an unhappy frown. "We knew they were watching Howard, looking for me, so if we couldn't go to them it makes sense to let them come to me."

"And if they'd grabbed you?"

Darcy squinted up at her and set her jaw. "Tell me you would have done something different."

"I wouldn't have dangled myself like a worm on a hook."

Darcy laughed, lightly scoffing, and rolled her eyes. "Right."

Peggy scowled at her. "I wouldn't have."

"If you knew you could bring them out so you could track them, you would have," she countered.

"You know me so well?"

"It's been three weeks!" Darcy shouted again. And 70 years, and a hundred stories. 

"Good lord, you're a grown woman," Peggy hissed. "Stop yelling."

Darcy crossed her arms and glared at the pavement. "How did you know?"

"Angie said you went out for a walk and that you'd been gone for a while. She was concerned."

Letting out a long breath, Darcy rolled her head on her shoulders. "Sorry."

"Apologize to her, not to me."

"I will."

"I know this is frustrating for you," Peggy told her, voice even and calm. "But, we just need more time."

"Sousa's no dummy. He's got to suspect—"

"What? That you're a time traveler?" The other woman snorted and shook her head. 

"Suspect _something_. And how long can you keep Thompson chasing a phony leak in the SSR?"

"Long enough."

Darcy growled softly to herself and crossed her arms. "We're stuck. Admit it. Without the power conversion unit that started this, I'm not going anywhere. Hydra's buried themselves deep. Sure, we know they're here, but where?"

"Hydra needs the other pieces of the device before they can do anything with it themselves."

"We don't know that they don't already have them all," Darcy interrupted, earning a sharp look from Peggy. 

"And we know there was an inside man at Pine Camp," the other woman continued over Darcy's objection. "We're watching Howard's collection, and the camp's storage."

"But you don't know who the leak was. All those leads dried up." Peggy told her about her suspicions of Sgt. Reilly, but his story of being flagged down during his patrol by the morning shift at the bunker facility checked out. There was nothing on the young Sergeant at all. Clean record both in the service and out. He called his mother every week. Volunteered at a local school as their gun club instructor. Went to church every Sunday and was an enthusiastic participant of their monthly potlucks. "We don't have any—"

Peggy stopped abruptly and turned Darcy to face her. "For God's sake. I will get you home, you have my word. Fat lot of good it will do, though, if you get yourself kidnapped or killed. What on Earth do you think Howard would do if anything happened to you?"

Darcy didn't really want to think about that. It hadn't taken long for Howard to become attached to her, and irritatingly protective. He reminded her so much of her father sometimes she wanted to cry. She tried not to get too attached, herself. At first it wasn't such a chore; the whole situation felt like a strange fever dream, and keeping herself detached was easy enough. But then the days turned into a week, into two, and now nearly a month. He was her grandfather, and despite Tony's tempestuous relationship with the man, she'd always had a degree of affection for Howard. But, that was an affection that was forever doomed to remain abstract, history more than reality. Except, she was here now, in 1946, and so was he. And, damn it, she adored him. She was desperate to go home, and every day she stayed, the knowledge that she would leave Howard to his fate and the future and never see him again, weighed more and more heavily on her. 

"Darcy?"

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking off those grim thoughts. "I just really, really want to go home."

"It's so dreadful here?" Peggy asked with a smirk.

"You know it's not. That's why I need to go, the sooner the better," Darcy answered her with as much candid openness as she could muster. 

With a sigh, Peggy cast her eyes over the street and the passers-by. "Alright. Howard won't like this, but if you want to draw them into a trap, we'll come up with a plan. You have to have a plan, Darcy. Perhaps you can handle one agent, but what if there'd been more?"

"I know, I know," she muttered and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. It was October, and the autumn chill was settling on the city. 

"I think you feel you're on your own in this, and you're not," Peggy told her firmly. "You've got a team. Perhaps it's not what you're used to, but we're not entirely inept."

Darcy sighed. "I never thought you were."

"Then you must let us help you," Peggy pressed. 

They stopped at the entrance to the apartment building and Darcy looked across the street, looking for any eyes watching them. She didn't see anybody, but she could feel the itchy crawl over her skin that said there was somebody out there, watching her. Maybe that was paranoia, but she'd spotted each tail every time she left the building, she _knew_ they were there. 

"Alright," she said at last. "We'll come up with a plan."

"And you'll have adequate backup."

"And I'll have backup," Darcy parroted with flat agreement.

"Good." Peggy let out a breath and turned for the doors. "Let's not tell Howard."

"God, no," she said with a thin laugh. 

The doorman stood patiently, waiting for them to decide if they were going in or out, but he paused in tipping his hat at them, and looked towards the street. Peggy turned her head and let out a long sigh. "Oh, double damn."

Darcy turned and saw three men get out of a car at the curb. Agent Sousa, and two others she didn't know. 

"Miss Lewis," Sousa greeted with a small smile as he limped heavily up to them. The other agents positioned themselves by the side of the car, arms crossed, watching. 

"Peggy," Sousa nodded at her. 

"Daniel. What is this about?"

"Thompson wants to talk to Miss Lewis."

She raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin towards the other men. "And you needed two additional agents to relay that?"

"He _really_ wants to talk to her." He sighed and braced himself on his crutch. "Come on, Peg, you've been dodging it for weeks."

"Miss Lewis has been through an ordeal," Peggy said. 

"And I'm sorry for that," he said with genuine sympathy, "but she looks like she's doing better."

Darcy huffed and rolled her eyes. "Better call Howard," she told Peggy. "I'll meet you at the station, I guess."

"Darcy—"

"I think I'm feeling up to it now," she said with a phony smile at Sousa. "Chief Thompson's been so patient. It's rude to keep making him wait." Peggy sucked on her teeth and gave Darcy an irritated look, but didn't say anything. 

They _had_ been dodging the SSR, Peggy constantly reassuring them that Darcy wasn't going anywhere under her watch. It looked like Thompson was finally done politely requesting an interview, and Darcy was tired of hiding. She always preferred to just get these sorts of things over with; they never got better with drawing them out. It was one thing when she hoped to get home in days, but she and Howard needed the power conversion unit to study before they could even begin to guess how she ended up lost in time. Besides, it seemed her only other option was to run, and that wasn't useful in the least. She needed Peggy and the SSR to help her find Hydra. 

"Very well," Peggy said, her voice tight with aggravation. "I'll phone Howard. Say nothing until he gets there."

"Don't worry so much, Peggy. I've got nothing to hide," Darcy said brightly, wide-eyed and innocent. Sousa probably wasn't buying it, he'd seen her after she woke up and was still fuzzy, stripped of her usual disguises, after all. The show wasn't for him. She'd need to get into character to meet the station chief, and it would take her the drive at least to shake off her lingering irritation at losing the Hydra agent. 

Peggy looked like she wanted to throttle her, but she simply gave a sharp half-nod and then looked to Sousa. "I'll see you in half an hour or so."

"We won't rough her up," Sousa promised with a smile. 

"I can assure you, if I thought that was likely—"

"Peggy," Sousa said, his lips tipping down into a hurt frown. "Thompson just wants her statement. You wouldn't bring her in, so here we are."

"She gave a statement," Peggy said, stubbornly trying to protect Darcy. Which Darcy appreciated, but this was only going to put Peggy in a bad position. She opened her mouth to respond, but Sousa beat her to it. 

"One that didn't make a lot of sense at the time." He held up a hand and shrugged. "I know she was sick, I understand. And I know why she said what she did. I promise, that won't leave the building. We haven't found any hint of a leak."

Peggy let out a sigh and gave Darcy a despairing look. "Very well. You'd better get on, then."

Darcy followed Sousa to the car. He joined her in the backseat, the other two agents up front. 

"You do look like you're feeling better," Sousa commented as they pulled away from the curb.

"Loads," Darcy assured him. "I didn't mean to upset Chief Thompson, but Howard's just been so worried about a leak in the SSR. We don't know who found out, it's made us all nervous. Me especially."

"Well, look, like I told Peggy, we haven't found a leak, and," he frowned and shook his head, "nothing that said you were related to Howard. Not in any sort of file on him, nothing from the war records. So, I'm not real sure how it got out. If it wasn't at Stark Industries, I'm certain it wasn't us, either."

"Howard's still investigating at SI," Darcy said. It was a cursory investigation, meant to be more sound and fury than anything else. Though, he was also trying to determine if Hydra might be gearing up to pull a heist on one of his warehouses. If they wanted to start building their horrible Tesseract weapons again, Howard had some of the key components. Assuming, of course, that they didn't have everything they needed already.

"You'll be safe at the station, and look, it's just a statement. Besides, Peggy'd have my head if I let anything happen to you."

Darcy laughed a little and looked out the window at the passing city. So strange and so familiar. 

"Peggy's been so nice to let me—" Darcy's sentence cut off when the car swerved suddenly and sharply. Grabbing at the door handle, she was thrown forward into the back of the driver's seat when the car slammed into another parked on the street. "What the hell," she muttered around the salty-sweet tang of blood in her mouth. Sousa grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her down into the footwell.

"Keep your head down," he hissed. 

"Agent Sousa? What?"

He was struggling to pull his pistol out of his coat, ducking behind the seat when a loud pop shattered the passenger side window and something tore through the upholstery. A bullet. Somebody was shooting at them. Hydra was done waiting to talk to her, too. Darcy wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, staring dumbly at the red smeared on her skin for a moment, before she turned onto her side and tried to pull out her handbag and the backup gun Peggy'd given her. Sousa might wonder, but if Hydra was trying to kill her now, she didn't care what anybody else might think. 

"Berman?" Sousa called. "Hampton?"

"Berman's out, can't tell if he's breathing," the man she supposed was Hampton responded, his voice was tight with pain. 

"How bad are you?"

"Missed my head, got me in the arm." He hissed. "Broke it, too." 

"Don't move," Sousa ordered Darcy, then turned to shove open the back door. A bullet ripped through the metal skin and he jerked back. "We're pinned," he growled. 

Darcy tried her own door, it was stuck, but a few sharp kicks forced it open halfway. The driver's side was a crumpled mess, and the car they struck was only a few feet from her door. It was enough, though, and she slid out, gesturing for Sousa to follow. Another bullet tore through the roof of the car, striking the back seat between them. 

"Come on," Darcy called, grabbing his crutch and pulling it out with her. 

Diving across the seat, Sousa tumbled out of the car nearly on top of her. Darcy let out an oof and an entirely inappropriate giggle. "You're a swell fellow, and all, Agent Sousa, but I'm not that type of girl."

He gave her an incredulous look and forced himself to his knees. "What?"

"Sorry, bad joke, it's how I manage, you know?" She muttered and scuttled back out of his way. They were sheltered between both cars now, and the shooting started again. Hampton leaned out his side window and started firing rounds back. But, Darcy couldn't tell where the shooting was coming from, except up. Somebody in a building around them. She got to a low crouch and circled around the parked car, Sousa following, stiff and awkward with only one leg. Another shot rang out and Darcy grabbed his jacket, giving him a hard tug, until he fell into her again. 

"A fellow could get ideas," he muttered, a tense, crooked smile on his face.

"See? It helps," she said with an approving, slightly lunatic grin of her own, as she turned back to her bag and finally freed Peggy's backup piece. 

Sousa gaped. "You're armed?"

"Somebody's already kidnapped me once and now they're shooting at me. Yeah, I've got a gun. Besides, Howard's a weapon designer; do you really think I don't know how to shoot?"

He blinked at her and turned to sit with his back to the car's tire. "I guess I hadn't really thought about it."

Another shot, the bullet hitting the parked car this time, putting an end to any doubts that she was the target. Not that she'd doubted it before, but maybe the other agent would have a chance, now that the fire wasn't concentrated on him. "Hampton?" She yelled.

"Sixth story, gray building, two down, across the street," he called back, but his voice was weak. 

Darcy glanced around, her vision limited by the car, searching for a way out. At least the sidewalk was empty of pedestrians. They'd taken cover in surrounding shops when the shooting started, she could see some pale faces staring at them from windows and doors. She waved a hand at them, trying to get them to move away; she didn't want any more casualties on her account, and certainly not innocent civilians. There was more than enough guilt on her plate already. 

Sousa shifted, getting to his knees again. "I want you to run."

"What?"

He jerked a thumb down the street, opposite the direction of their shooter. "You head that way, stay low, behind the cars. Just to the end of the street, when you're clear, go into a building and wait. I can't keep up with you."

"I'm not going to leave you."

He blinked at that, surprised, and frowned back at her. "I'll be fine. You're the target, after all." He forced a smile and she rolled her eyes. "Nah, I don't think it really helps that much."

"Just takes practice," she assured him. 

Sousa peered over the trunk of the car, just a quick peek before he dropped back down to the pavement. "The cops will be on the way. This won't last long. The shooter will be in the wind in a minute, so I don't want you going far, but I wasn't kidding about Peggy having my head if anything happened to you." Another shot, another bullet, this one hitting the pavement just beyond them. The shooter was trying to get them to panic and break cover. "I'll distract him, you run."

Licking her lips, Darcy looked down the street, counting the cars and the shelter she might or might not have. "Isn't this one of those situations where staying put is the best idea? Especially if the cops are on their way?"

Sousa shook his head and another round blew out the windshield and driver's side window above them, showering them with glass. "I don't know what this guy is firing, but the rounds are tearing through everything like it's paper. You need to be behind a foot of brick."

He put a hand on her arm. "On my count. And, hey, it's my job to protect you. If you're out of his line of sight, you're safe. That's the most important thing, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, giving Sousa a smile and a pat on the hand. "Ready when you are."

On the count of three, he pushed himself up the side of the car, firing over the roof, and Darcy ran like hell. 

***

A half hour later, Agent Sousa and three SSR agents found her in a drugstore around the corner. Sousa rescued her again, this time from the irritating attentions of the pharmacist who kept pressing sodas and tonics on her. For her nerves. She might have been on edge, but she was more likely to pop him in the eye than break down in hysterics. So, maybe Sousa actually rescued the pharmacist. Either way, she was relieved to see him and the burly agents at his back. 

They went straight to the station, two cars ahead and one behind them, but as Sousa predicted, the shooter was long gone by the time the cops showed up. 

"How's Hampton?" Darcy asked as Sousa waved her into the building, a protective ring of agents around them. 

"He'll pull through."

"And the other one? Berman?"

"I don't know. He was still alive when the cops showed. There was a doctor across the street, got to him quick once the shooting stopped." Sousa shrugged and held a door open for her. 

"I'm sorry for all this," Darcy said. "I had no idea that they'd—"

"Hey. It's not like these guys play fair. Wasn't you doing the shooting, anyway."

"I know, I know." Darcy shrugged and Sousa pulled open another door for her, waving her into a bullpen full of agents who were turned to watch her entrance. Peggy and Howard stood side-by-side in the middle of the room. Peggy's arms were crossed, her face pinched and tight. Howard's hands were jammed in the pockets of his trousers but his drawn, grim frown lifted into a half-smile and he stepped quickly over to her. 

"You okay, sweetheart?" He ran his hands down her arms, checking for injuries, and bent down a little to look her in the eyes. 

"I'm fine, Howard. I promise. Agents Sousa, Berman, and Hampton kept me safe," she lifted her voice on their names. She didn't know how things with Thompson would go, especially after she got two of his agents shot, so it was worth making sure everybody else knew she noticed and respected the agents around her. 

Howard nodded and let go of her to stick his hand out to Sousa. "Thank you."

Sousa looked surprised but he took the hand in a quick shake. "Of course, Mr. Stark." 

"No, look, she's the only family I've got. I won't forget this." He nodded once and turned back to Darcy. "You don't have to do this today."

"Mr. Stark—" A tall man with blonde hair, glowered at them both. 

"Stuff it, Thompson."

"Howard," Darcy gave him a light smack on the arm, ready to play her role. Funny how somebody shooting at her could clarify her mind so fantastically. "Chief Thompson's been very patient. I'm okay, really. And especially if I can give him any information that will let the SSR get these people." She smiled over at Thompson, hoping her innocent act was credible. She'd never been good at it, but from everything Peggy and Angie'd said, he was susceptible to underestimating women. "Chief Thompson, I'm Darcy Lewis."

"Miss Lewis, thank you for coming in. I'm sorry about everything. We—" he faltered and looked uncomfortable for a minute, before raising his chin, "we had no intelligence that there would be an attempt on your life."

Darcy took that to mean Thompson blew off Peggy's concerns. Still she kept her smile in place, but added a feminine little shudder. "I didn't either. Gosh, and I went for a walk only this morning."

"You can't do that anymore," he said, chastising her. "But, you're safe here. Why don't we have Agent Sousa show you to the interview room, and maybe you'd like some coffee?" He glanced over his shoulder to Peggy, who stared back, expressionless. He cleared his throat and turned back to Darcy with a smile. "We'll have somebody bring you something."

"Thanks ever so," she chirped back. Peggy turned the expressionless look on her, and it was Darcy's turn to clear her throat. 

Sousa gave her a nudge and pointed her across the room to a door, while Howard squawked behind them, "The interview room? She's not some red spy." Peggy hissed at him to shut up.

Sousa led her into the small, bare room. A simple table, three chairs, and a boarded up hole in the wall Darcy thought had probably been a one-way mirror. Sousa stared at the boards and shrugged. "We really have to get that fixed." 

"What happened?"

"Peggy."

"Okay." Darcy tried to picture what might have led to that particular piece of destruction, but she was sure whatever she came up with wouldn't do the original event justice. She'd have to remember to ask. 

Sousa watched as she circled the room and came to a stop on the far side of the table. "That was quite an act you pulled out there," he commented. 

"Yeah, well," Darcy shrugged, then snorted a laugh. "He didn't listen, huh?"

Sousa shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't like that. There _was_ a break-in. But, I think he didn't really buy your story, even after Stark got hot at him about it." He glanced over his shoulder at the frosted glass window in the door. "You kept a cool head on the street."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't the first time, was it?" He asked her, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. 

"That somebody shot at me in the street? First time." He gave her a flat look and raised an eyebrow. She sighed and told him with bland evasiveness, "Agent Sousa, I may not have been part of the SSR, but more women than just Peggy saw action." The fact was true enough, if not the 'when' of it in her case.

He stared at her for a long minute, his eyes roving over her features, looking for some hint of the truth, until he nodded slowly. "You'd've been better in a foxhole than some of the guys I was with."

Darcy gave him a coy smile. "Oh, no, Agent. I hate the mud."

With a mystified chuckle, like he just couldn't figure her out, he turned to the door. "Do you want coffee? I can get you some."

"No, thank you." 

Sousa left and Darcy pulled out the chair to sit and think about her morning of excitement. Why would Hydra try and take her out now? When they couldn't get to her after weeks, did they decide to just put an end to their own questions with a bullet? Or was Peggy on to something, and she gave too much away by trying to bait the Hydra agents around? So, maybe chasing that one earlier was a mistake, and maybe by giving chase, she also tipped them off that she wasn't just some helpless witness. She was just so frustrated by the lack of progress, but, okay, yes, she could see where that was stupid. It would have been all the confirmation they needed that she was a threat, so they moved. Maybe she was the one who fell for the bait, not them. 

With a groan, she dropped her head down onto the table and swore under her breath. The door opened a moment later and Jarvis slipped in. 

"Jarvis?" She lifted her head and blinked at him. 

"Miss Lewis. I'll be acting as your representation for these proceedings," he said with stiff formality, not looking entirely thrilled. His lack of enthusiasm probably had more to do with the situation than with her. After she shocked him with the surprise hug, and then socked him with the surprise gut punch, she and Jarvis got along well enough. It wasn't quite the relationship she'd always half-dreamed, but poor Jarvis was dealing with the oddity of another Stark as well as he could, and she couldn't really be too upset about his reserve. Darcy coped by making inappropriate jokes, Jarvis coped by saying 'yes, miss', 'no, miss', and 'very well, miss', a lot. 

"You're a lawyer now?"

"No, but Agent Carter thought that, perhaps, Mr. Stark wasn't the best person to have in the room," he said with admirable delicacy. "I'm a compromise."

Darcy laughed a little as he took a seat opposite her. "I promise to behave."

"I would appreciate that. Mr. Stark was extremely concerned when word came in about the shoot-out in the street." He paused and let out a breath of long-suffering weariness. "I feel like a character in an old western drama."

"Me, too." Certainly a character in a period piece. She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand; life was damned weird. 

Jarvis eyed her and pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "You may want to attempt to appear more distraught, and less like you've spent the morning doing something particularly tedious."

Darcy squinted at him, then lifted her head, squirmed on her seat a little to get comfortable and pull herself up into more demure and proper posture. Then she tried to look worried.

"No, you look as though you have something in your eye." Jarvis leaned forward. "Frown; not too deeply, now." Darcy attempted to comply. "Furrow your brow, but not sharply. A light furrowing, if you will. You've just seen something that's made you feel a touch sad." Darcy furrowed. "And try again with the eyes." Darcy tried again. "Well, that was no good. Now you look as though you've discovered your milk has spoiled." 

"If I'd known I was going to have to play the frail today," she grumped with a sour frown, "I would have asked Angie for some acting tips."

"Now you look annoyed."

Darcy rolled her eyes and dropped her chin back into her hand. "I guess I'll just have to wing it."

Jarvis sighed. "How very like your grandfather."

"You know," Darcy drawled, "you've never commented about what you thought of all this."

"I wasn't certain what to think," he admitted. "But, I can see Howard Stark in you. I imagine you favor your mother, as well, but it's not difficult to believe you're a relation."

Jarvis looked down at the table, seeming lost in thought, then glanced over his shoulder to the door before turning back to her, his face very serious, but tempered with kindness. "I know this is all very trying for you, but I would like to say that, circumstances aside, it is a tremendous joy to know you, to know that the genius and resolve of the Stark line shall continue to benefit this nation, and indeed, the world for many decades to come. You are brave and resilient." She shrugged, uncomfortable as she always was when people offered her those sorts of compliments. "Mr. Stark is desperately proud of you; I hope you realize the degree to which that is true. That, alone, was all the confirmation I needed to accept that you're his granddaughter."

Touched and warmed by his loyalty and the generosity of his statement, Darcy smiled at him. "Thank you, Jarvis."

"You're very welcome."

That sat in silence for a few more minutes until Thompson came in with a stack of files and a fake smile on his lips. "Miss Lewis, sorry about the wait." He cast Jarvis a frustrated look, but didn't comment further. Darcy wished she could have heard the conversation that led to the 'compromise'. It looked like it was boatload of chuckles, and she wouldn't mind something to actually laugh about now. 

"Oh, it's no problem, Chief Thompson," Darcy said brightly, then tried to remember to appear worried. Jarvis continued to seem doubtful of her efforts. "It's all just so crazy," she said with a shake of her head.

"It really is," Thompson agreed, and sat down. "You know, usually, when somebody is a victim of a crime, we like to get to know more about that person. It tends to offer some clues about who the criminal is. Especially, say, a kidnapping victim, or somebody who's had an attempt made on their life. Because, when the bad guys do things like that, they tend to have a reason. I'm not saying the victim deserved it, but there's a rationale behind the act. Do you understand?"

Darcy ground her teeth but smiled back. "I do."

"Funny thing, though, when we were trying to get to know you, there wasn't much we could find. And we had a hard time getting you to come in and talk to us."

"I'm sure Agents Carter and Sousa told you why I prefer to stay out of the spotlight. For this exact reason. If somebody wanted something from Howard and couldn't get to him, I was afraid they'd try for me instead. And they did," Darcy pointed out. The truth was always simpler, and this was a truth she'd lived with since she was a kid. Though, it might offer some complications, but Howard's idea that she pass as his cousin was close enough to the truth to mean Darcy didn't have to act at all. The memory of childhood nightmares of men in black masks stealing her from her bed were enough to give credence to her charade. 

Thompson ignored her, however. "And on the day that we bring you here, there also just happened to be a sniper waiting along the route."

"It looks like it," Darcy said in a bland, bored tone. 

"What are the odds?" He asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Slim, I imagine," she said. "So, I would guess they were waiting for a while. Or, I'd guess you do have a mole here who fed information, like my identity and when you'd pick me up, to whoever these people are."

Thompson's face went hard and his expression turned dark. "Or you set it up."

Darcy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She'd known Thompson was suspicious of her story, but this was more than she expected. "Why?"

"Interesting how the sniper hit everybody but you."

"Agent Sousa wasn't hurt," Darcy reminded him. "We were both in the backseat. The sniper fired from in front."

"Right, and maybe it was all just to look good. Look like you were under threat."

Darcy took a deep breath and then she laughed. "You can't possibly be serious."

"Agent Thompson, I must protest," Jarvis interjected, his face twisted into an unhappy, scandalized frown. "You have no evidence that Miss Lewis was involved in any of this, except as the victim of a horrible crime."

Thompson shot him a flat look. "I agreed you could sit in, I didn't agree you could talk." He turned back to Darcy. "You don't seem bothered by the attempt."

"I am," she said simply. "And don't talk to Mr. Jarvis like that."

Thompson pressed his lips together into a thin line and continued his questioning. "You don't look like you're upset to me."

"Do you want me to cry?" She asked with an exasperated huff. "Break down in hysterics? Scream? Cower? Sorry, it's not in my nature."

"Because you've seen action before."

Darcy rolled her eyes and reminded herself to be careful about what she told Sousa. He wasn't a snitch, but he reported to his boss like a good agent. It wasn't his fault Thompson was grasping at straws because he'd got fixed on some crazy idea. 

"Because it's not who I am," she said, avoiding directly answering his leading statement. "I always need time to think things through."

"Sure, sure, like your _cousin_."

"We are logical people," she agreed with a smile. "We prefer to use our heads rather than just reacting."

"Starks parents didn't have any siblings that we could find. How, exactly, are you cousins?"

"We're cousins through our great-grandparents."

"So, second cousins?"

"Is that how it works? I always get that confused. Is it just second cousins or is it once-removed?"

Thompson gave her an impatient look. "Which great-grandparents are these?"

"Armin and Esther Birnbaum. They had three kids. My grandmother and Howard's grandmother were sisters. There was a brother, too, but I don't know what happened to him." Darcy smiled at him. Good luck to him getting at any of those records. It would take ages. Especially with the confusion in Europe and mass migration after the war. 

"Where were they from?"

"I don't know. Hungary somewhere."

"When did they immigrate?"

"No idea," she said with an unconcerned shrug. "Ask Howard. He might know."

"You don't know much about your family."

"I never met them. They died before I was born." 

Jarvis, whose jaw had grown tighter and tighter as the conversation drew on, interrupted again, "Miss Lewis has been attacked twice. This interrogation is doing nothing to find answers as to who is after her." 

Thompson turned in his chair. "You know, I remember you being in here earlier this year. I could make things very—"

"Hey," Darcy called, scowling at the man. "Leave him out of this."

"I could have him up on obstructing justice," Thompson told her with a growl. 

"I could punch you in the face," Darcy snapped back. 

"And then you'd be assaulting a government agent."

"I'd be assaulting a blowhard jackass. I don't think that's illegal. Is it, Jarvis?"

Jarvis nodded at her with a small, sober smile. "I think we could make a stout defense based upon the unreasonable degree of provocation."

Thompson pointed a finger at him. "I want you out of here. Now."

"Absolutely not," Jarvis said stoutly. "You made an agreement with Mr. Stark to allow my presence."

"So long as you didn't interfere."

"That was not part of the agreement. I'm here as Miss Lewis's representative. It's my job to interfere if I deem it necessary." He twisted his head on his neck and raised his chin. "A right not even you have the authority to overrule. Or shall I have Mr. Stark call Colonel Phillips?"

Thompson scowled and turned back to Darcy. "Fine. I've read the statement you gave Agent Carter regarding your kidnapping and the lack of memory of those events. Do you have anything additional to offer?"

Darcy did not grin in triumph. That would be provocation of her own. Instead she nodded and looked very serious. Jarvis gave her an approving smile. "There was a man watching me today when I went for my walk. He made me nervous."

Thompson let out a long breath and pulled out a note pad from his jacket pocket. "What did he look like?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY!

"Peggy, hey, can we talk?"

Pausing in the hallway, she tightened the grip on her briefcase for a moment, and let out a hissing breath between her teeth. It was too much to ask that she escape without facing an inquisition of her own. 

"Daniel," she forced a smile and turned to greet her colleague and the inquisition. Well, perhaps he might be a friend, and just as well it was Sousa and not another agent. The day had given her a strong urge to punch somebody. "I was just going home to make sure Darcy has everything she needs."

The Starks had gone an hour earlier, back to the penthouse so Darcy could gather her few belongings for a move to another of Howard's properties. He had some mad idea, not one he'd deigned to share yet, but his eyes were alight with amusement, and Peggy was sure it would end in disaster. But she and Angie were invited to stay over, as well, until the threat to Darcy and, likely, the penthouse had passed. Peggy wasn't convinced she could live in the same house with Howard without wanting to throttle him far too often, but Angie would no doubt jump at the adventure. 

Darcy and Angie got on like a house on fire; they shared a similarly blunt, dry humor. More than once Peggy had returned home to raucous commentary during the latest, absurd installment of the Captain America Adventure Hour. They did make the show tolerable, she had to admit, even if their laughter could take a more crass, blue tone than she generally cared for. Darcy did a credible and completely unflattering impression of Betty Carver, much to Angie's admiration and envy. 

The thought of the two of them let loose together with Howard was harrowing, so as reluctant as she might have been, Peggy felt she ought to go along and supervise anyway. In addition to that, Darcy's agitation had put her in danger today, and while Peggy was certain Darcy wasn't going to go running after Hydra operatives again, things were far from settled, and the younger Stark could let the intensity of her drive overrule her good sense. Not unlike her grandfather. Lord, she'd ask for a wing of her own at whatever palatial residence Howard would put them up at. 

"Yeah," Daniel nodded coming along to stand next to her. "It's good Stark's moving her. You going with?"

"I suppose I ought to. Two Starks … " She gave him a rueful smile. 

He didn't smile back. "I think we need to talk about Miss Lewis."

"What about her?"

Daniel gave her a frustrated look and let out a long breath through his nose. "Are you really going to do this again?"

Gritting her teeth, she felt the smile on her face grow tight and hard. "What, exactly, am I doing?"

"You and Stark, off doing your own thing. Going rogue," he exclaimed, waving a hand at her. "What's it going to take for you to trust me?"

"I do trust you."

"No, you don't." He heaved a breath and tapped his crutch on the floor, agitated. "Something's going on with that girl. None of this makes sense. And you and Stark are shut up tight. So tell me, why didn't the sniper wait until he had the shot? Why shoot early? You know, Thompson thinks she set the whole thing up herself."

"What?" Peggy stared at him for a moment before growling, "Of all the bloody, ridiculous—"

"Tell me what's really going on," he pressed. "Why did the shooter try to take the team out first?"

Peggy licked her lips and looked up and down the hall, watching other agents moving around them. Daniel had a point, she was shutting him out again. This was just such a damnable mess, she was trying to steer him clear of it. It wouldn't look like that to him, however, and she knew too well the sting of being shoved to one side. "Walk me out."

He gave her a mulish head shake. "I'm done playing games."

"I'm not playing any games with you, Daniel," she hissed back. "Walk me out."

"Worried about your _mole_?" He asked, an aggravated edge to his voice.

"I'm worried about the wrong ears, yes." She started down the hall. He could follow her, or he could stand there like a sullen little boy for all she cared. 

Blasted Starks. How did she get herself so wrapped up in them? This was easier when all her colleagues took her for granted, if endlessly insulting and frustrating. She'd wanted them to look at her as an agent, respect her as such, and now at least a few of them did. And, of course, they suspected her of … what? Helping Darcy hire a sniper to shoot at SSR agents? Perhaps not that far, or she'd be in a cell already. 

"Alright, we're walking out," Daniel said stumping up next to her. "Are you ready to talk, or should we take a leisurely stroll around the block?"

"Let me ask you a question first," Peggy said in a low voice, ignoring his grunt of protest. "What did Darcy do when the shooting started?"

Daniel gave her an impatient glance, but with a shake of his head said, "She seemed confused. We all were. But she got out of the car quick. Pulled me out, too."

"And what do you think the sniper was trying to do?" They stopped at the elevator, and Peggy gave Daniel an expectant look. 

"He was pinning us. He hit Berman and Hampton, but they weren't kill shots. He missed me by a hair."

They stepped into the elevator, but there were two other agents in already, so they rode down in uncomfortable silence, not speaking again until they reached the lobby. Peggy and Howard discussed the situation when Darcy was talking to Thompson. They both came to an unpleasant conclusion, but not having been present, they couldn't put the final piece together. 

"So, after you got out, what happened?" Peggy asked as she pushed out of the front door.

"Miss Lewis and I took shelter behind another car. The sniper followed us. Pinned us again."

She slowed her steps as they walked out onto the sidewalk. "And?"

Daniel made a sound low in his throat, not quite irritation, but maybe resignation. "Miss Lewis was real good, called out to Hampton to give us an update on the shooter. And made a couple lousy jokes." He huffed a little laugh and shook his head. "I don't care how coy she is about it, that wasn't her first firefight."

"No, I imagine not. She was trained by a sniper."

Daniel stopped again. "Trained as what? And by who? There's nothing about her in any Defense records I could find," he exclaimed, his voice heating. "And believe me, I looked. Thompson's had me stuck in the files for the last three weeks. Not a damned thing anywhere I can find."

Peggy sighed. Howard had forged a few documents, planting them with various agencies — birth certificate, driver's license, some Stark Industries paperwork here and there. But, they hadn't gone so far as to falsify any Defense documents. She'd have to tell him he might want to at least prepare them. They'd hoped to get Darcy home before that became necessary. Unfortunately, the search for the missing power unit was not going well. Every lead they'd had dried up in short order. Now it was a matter of tracking sleazy gunrunners and smugglers, watching for suspicious transfers of cargo, and beating the bricks for any hint that a cell of Hydra or Leviathan soldiers was operating in the city. If they were very lucky, somebody would try to steal the last pieces they needed from Howard — he had some surprises ready if they did.

"I can't answer that yet," Peggy told him, hoping to buy herself another minute. She still needed the last piece of the mystery of the shooting this morning and she wanted Daniel to try and understand it as well. "Before you get aggravated again, just tell me, what happened next?"

"I told her to get clear," he said, reluctant, his mood, already sour, growing more tense and upset by the moment. "Had to get her to take shelter out of sight. Whatever the shooter was using, it was ripping through everything. Found her thirty minutes later looking like she was about to deck a pharmacist."

Peggy huffed out a frustrated breath of her own. That wasn't what she needed to know. Something was missing. "I think they shot at you to try and separate her. They wanted to take her again. So why didn't they?"

Daniel pursed his lips and nodded slowly in understanding. "She was armed and wasn't rattled. I wouldn't have tried to grab her, either."

"I see," she murmured, thinking through the shooting. She'd seen Darcy in a temper, and could imagine being an operative waiting to take her, waiting for her to be shaken, panicky, but seeing instead a woman armed, furious, and ready for a fight. No, she would have been too dangerous to try to handle just then.

"What's really going on, Peggy?" Daniel demanded again. "What do they want from her? Why go this far to pursue her? Why stage that shooting just to get her away from us? She's been with you for three weeks and nobody took a shot at her until today. What happened?"

"She's been baiting them for days, trying to draw them out, trying to make them move," Peggy admitted with a glower at the street. "She almost got one of them this morning. I think that was all they needed to know that she was more than just a lab assistant." 

"Damn it, who is she?" When Peggy was silent, lost in her own thoughts about the enemy they faced, Daniel grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "What do I gotta do to get you to trust me? I'm not going to run to Thompson."

"Unless you feel you have to," she shot back. 

"So, is this something I ought to run to him about? You can trust me, Peggy." He let go of her arm and ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. "Look, let me help. I know how you get when nobody will listen to you, but, come on, how can I when you won't talk?"

"Do you really think if I go to Thompson he'll hear a word I say?"

"I'm not Thompson," he said, his voice raising to a near shout. "What? You think I can't help?" He tapped his prosthetic leg with his crutch. "I lost my leg not my brain. You think this means I can't help?"

"Oh, for God's sake, you know I don't think that," she exclaimed, exasperated.

"Do I?"

Peggy watched the pedestrians passing, the cars in the street, and thought. It would be easier with another pair of hands. Would Howard and Darcy agree? Could she really trust Daniel? She wanted to, but this was a mad, mad story and he'd just as likely assume she was lying again, making this all so much worse. 

"She's a frustrated woman who wants to go home," she said after a moment. 

"I can't believe this," Daniel growled. "Maybe we ought to put her into protective custody. For everybody else's safety."

"You'll have to fight Howard to do it," Peggy warned in a dark tone. "And you'll have to fight her."

"And you," he told her.

"I'm simply trying to figure out what's going on and how to get her home," Peggy replied through gritted teeth.

"You can't keep doing this," Daniel shot back, his frustration growing to a breaking point. "I used to assume we were on the same side. I used to assume we wanted to protect people from these threats. Now, what? You're protecting one?"

Setting her jaw, Peggy told him, "She is not a threat."

"Says you."

Giving him a black look, she waved to a nearby bus bench. Fine, they'd do this and she'd see where he stood. The SSR would have a hell of a time prying Darcy away from Howard's protection, but it would undoubtedly hinder their ability to find the missing device. She could only pray Daniel would listen to the whole story. God. What a day. 

"Sit down. It's a long, daft story."

He looked skeptical, wary, but there was a small light of hope in his eyes. "You're going to tell me everything?"

"Every bit," she promised and her lips quirked up into a grim smile, "and you won't believe any of it."

***

"His _granddaughter_?" Daniel said, his voice bewildered and his forehead creased in confusion.

"Yes."

"And you really believe this?" 

"I do," Peggy said with a little shrug. "Insane as it seems, I really do." It still amazed her, when she thought about it, that she had accepted it so easily. And yet, there was a truth in everything Darcy said, in the way she carried herself, in the looks she'd get sometimes when she thought nobody was watching. 

"I guess that kind of explains how she was when we met her," he said slowly, trying to work through the insanity. "And why she was so insistent on talking to Stark."

"I suppose so," she agreed mildly.

"And that device did what?"

"Honestly, you'll have to get Howard and Darcy to explain it, because I only understood two words in ten," Peggy told him with an annoyed shake of her head. It was a subject the pair argued about at length and at the drop of a hat. Daniel was welcome to ask, because Peggy would not be inquiring again. "The best I can gather is that the device in the present is somehow connected to the device in the future. Darcy got caught in that connection."

Daniel squinted out at the city around them, trying no doubt to imagine a world where that sort of strange, twisting paradox could be a reality. Peggy could hardly blame him for his confusion and skepticism. 

"That's a hell of a story," he said on a long breath. 

"I did warn you," Peggy told him easily. He'd wanted to know and now he'd have to bear the burden of this insanity with her. 

Shaking off his bafflement, he asked, "Okay, so, why are they trying to grab her? You really think it's Hydra and not Leviathan?"

"I don't honestly know," Peggy said quietly as she mused on the nature of their adversaries. Hydra being a continuing presence in the world was a bitter thought. After all the fighting, all the sacrifices, to learn that perhaps they hadn't even won the war burned in her chest. "We dismantled most of Hydra after the war, and as thorough as we tried to be, it appears that we missed some. Perhaps the survivors allied themselves with Leviathan. And isn't that a rotten thought?" Daniel gave a snort of dry amusement and Peggy continued, "Darcy was convinced this was all a Hydra trick until she saw us. Saw me. From there, we simply continued with the assumption that this was Hydra." 

She let out a long breath. "As for why they want her, I imagine it has to do with her showing up where she oughtn't have. The theft would have gone undiscovered for who knows how long, if she hadn't been found there."

"Yeah, okay, I can see that," Daniel said, fiddling with his crutch as he continued to try to take in the whole story. "But, how do you know she's not playing some long game here? Why'd Stark buy it? He's smarter than that."

"It took me some time to believe it. But, I've watched her; she's lived with me for almost a month, I'd be a bloody fool if I didn't watch her. But, there are patterns to the things she'll talk about and the things she won't. And those patterns are consistent. She's never slipped, never wavered. Her story hasn't changed even the smallest bit."

"She could be a hell of a spy," Daniel suggested.

"I agree. And, actually, it seems she is a hell of a spy. In the future, she's an agent with the SSR's successor agency."

"Huh," he said with a frown. "Well, her being an agent makes sense. Still, that doesn't say she's not like Underwood, or somebody."

Peggy turned on the bench to face him more directly, trying to convey to him her sincerity and the degree to which she had seriously considered all of this. "Daniel, she told me something that nobody else could possibly have known. The details of a conversation Howard and I had only a few days before we met her."

"So, somebody's listening, then," he said stubbornly. As though that hadn't occurred to her. Really, Daniel?

"There's no earthly way," Peggy insisted. "She was unconscious in the hospital at the time."

He thought about that for a long moment. "We know there was an inside guy at Pine Camp. He could have told her."

"When? She'd only been awake a few hours before we arrived. And unless you're suggesting the inside man is the camp's CMO or Nurse Welker, then there was nobody to tell her. The MPs had her locked down as a security breach. Besides, you know how paranoid Howard can be; there was nobody listening when we had that conversation." 

"It's an awful lot to believe, Peggy," Daniel told her with a weary shake of his head. 

"This is why we came up with the story we did," she told him with a tired shrug, weary herself. "It has the benefit of being, more or less, the truth."

"Sure, if you ignore all the parts that are lies," he snorted, but gave her a small smile. "I'll be honest, I don't know what to do with this."

"You wanted to help, so help us. Help us find this cell," she said, nearly pleading. She'd taken a risk and now she needed him to be on her side. He was an excellent agent who could sink them all with a word. "We must find that device. Howard and Darcy are certain it's the only way to get her home. And she's desperate. That's what so much of this morning was about. She made a mistake and let them learn too much about her."

"Guess she got what she wanted — they moved on her."

"Yes. Though, I think if she'd realized the lengths they'd go to she wouldn't have pursued the man this morning."

"Alright." He said slowly, nodding. "Well, if nothing else, there _was_ a shooter. And, I guess, you're right, the story is kind of the same, either way. The device was dangerous and it's missing, that's a fact, too. So, we'll keep on that angle."

"Thank you, Daniel," she told him sincerely. "I know I'm asking a lot of you, but you only have to see Darcy and Howard together for a time to see the resemblance. The turn of their minds is eerily similar. They talk in gestures and math, and in all the years I've known him, I've never seen Howard with that sort of rapport with anybody. And, in her favor, she is entirely immune to his charm."

Daniel managed a little laugh and gave Peggy a small smile. "Glad somebody is."

"I beg your pardon," she sniffed, offended at his suggestion she was vulnerable to Howard's silver tongue and leering smiles.

"Look at what you'll do for him," Daniel said with a wave of his hand. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, really. You stand up for your friends. It's good."

"You just wish I'd stand up for you more?" Peggy asked, feeling a twinge of regret that she'd made him doubt her steadfastness as a friend.

"I wish you'd let me know this earlier," he said, sounding worn and a little wounded. "We could have made a better start on all this. If nothing else, I could have skipped three weeks digging through every dusty records room in the city."

Laughing a little, she gave him an apologetic look. "I'll owe you for that."

"Yeah, you will." With a crooked smile, he heaved himself to his feet. "I'll go back to the office, get started again. I know it chews at you that not everybody listens to you, but some of them will listen to me. And maybe that doesn't make it better, but we can use that anyway."

Standing with him, Peggy smoothed down her skirt and picked up her briefcase. "You're right. Thank you."

"Sure. I'm not saying I buy this …"

"Well, we'll just have to have you round to wherever Howard's putting us up and you can watch the two of them together. If that doesn't convince you, I don't know what would," she laughed a little. 

"You like her, don't you?"

"I do. She's interesting, intriguing. Damned smart, as you might expect, but she doesn't wear it with the arrogance that Howard does. She's a little kinder than him, I guess. But the oddest things set her off; she'll drop into a bleak mood in an instant. It's obvious she's bearing a tremendous burden. It's tearing at her. I can't help but feel that. Foreknowledge must be a curse, I think."

"Why? You could pick every winner at the track for years," Daniel said with a laugh.

"I doubt she's memorized seventy years of results," Peggy scoffed with a smile. "Think of all the things you couldn't be certain you should or would even be able to change. Things you'd simply have to let happen. Knowing the whole time that perhaps you could improve things, but perhaps you'd only make them worse. And balancing the future with, what to you would be a past already written … I don't envy her." 

"Yeah, I guess that wouldn't be much fun," he admitted with a frown.

"Before you make up your mind, spend some time with her," Peggy suggested again. He wasn't decided, he was skeptical, but he wasn't dug in on any point. Not yet. "We'll sort it out so you can."

"Are you going to tell her you told me?"

"I will."

Looking curious, he asked, "Think that'll upset her?"

"I don't know," Peggy said honestly. It could be very difficult to gauge Darcy's opinions on certain things. Howard would tell you what he thought without hesitation, but Darcy could be more watchful, more careful with her thoughts. "She must like you, however; she did think to pull you out of the car, after all."

He nodded soberly. "I guess I do owe her a chance for that."

"That's all I ask."

Nodding, he shrugged his jacket more comfortably on his shoulders and got a better grip on his crutch. "Okay, so go check on her. This morning would shake anybody."

"It would," Peggy agreed, then peered at him, trying to see if he'd been shaken, too. "How are you?"

"Puzzled mostly. I suppose it might hit me later." He rubbed at his jaw. "She asked after Hampton and Berman. That was nice of her, you know."

"It is. She worries about people quite a bit, and I'm certain she feels terrible about this morning."

"Yeah, I know," he said, seeming lost in thought. "Alright. I'll talk to you later, right?"

"You will. I'll tell you where Howard's putting us."

"Good." He started off but paused after a couple steps. "It's crazy, but thanks for telling me."

"Thanks for listening."

"Sure." He tossed her a smile and turned away, back towards the office. 

Peggy stood for a moment, considering the whole mess. And as much as she'd like to blame Starks, she stuck herself right into the middle of these things all on her own. For so long she'd been the marginalized agent who wanted only to be allowed to do her job to the best of her abilities and earn the respect that deserved. She'd pushed for more, and when it wasn't given to her, she'd taken it instead. Respect would be nice, but the job was more important than a need for recognition, and she had and would continue to focus on that job. But, perhaps in that focus, she'd been stingy with the fair shake she wanted for herself. She had earned Daniel's respect, and he deserved her own. She would have to trust that he believed that enough to not run to Thompson. 

***

"Must you always be listening to this rubbish?" Peggy asked, coming into the living room and wincing at the sounds of the Captain America Adventure Hour filling the air. Darcy was slumped on the couch with her eyes closed, ignoring Howard stomping around as he pointed out things for Jarvis to pack. 

"It cheers me up," Darcy grumbled. Peggy supposed it did, however lacking she found it as a source of amusement. Darcy'd laughed herself sick when the previous episode centered on the the adventures of Bucky Barnes, Cap's inexplicably-teenaged sidekick. Peggy very much doubted Sgt. Barnes would have been thrilled with the caricature and that particular remembrance of his legacy and sacrifice. Still, it had indeed cheered Darcy immeasurably. For a time, anyway, but then she'd become sullen during dinner and took herself off to brood in her room. 

Peggy took a step towards her and peered down at the other woman. Her face was blotchy and tight, as though she was struggling through some particularly painful emotion. "Are you truly alright?" 

"Fine."

"Really?"

Darcy opened her eyes and gave Peggy a weary smile. "Funny how being shot at by a sniper makes me miss my partner, right?"

"Funny is not quite the word I'd choose," Peggy told her with a raised eyebrow, softening the expression with a smile.

Her own smile fading, Darcy looked off at the ceiling. "I miss him. I keep wishing he was here."

"I'm sure you do. You may not talk about him a great deal, but I can see you're close." 

Darcy's partner was one of those subjects about which she was painfully consistent. She never said his name, gave few details of his life beyond service in the Army and that he was a sniper. Oh, and that he'd had a rough go. What that meant was anybody's guess, and she was resolutely silent on the subject. It drove Howard mad that she wouldn't talk about the man who may or may not have been her lover — she was vague on that, as well; though Peggy suspected Darcy simply enjoyed tweaking Howard. He'd been irritated enough to propose regulations in SHIELD about partners, but Darcy only smirked at him, that insufferable Stark smirk, while he petulantly twitched his mustache. Peggy thought it was a delicious sort of justice that he found himself on the receiving end of that particular, irritating trait. 

"He was my asset first, did I ever tell you that?" Darcy muttered. 

Peggy stepped to the radio and turned it off, silencing that God awful broadcast, before moving to sit on the chair across from Darcy. "No, I don't think you did."

"I brought him in from the cold," she pronounced, laughing a little. "I found him … well, it doesn't matter where or how, but he talked to me. He'd been lost for a long, long time. I wanted to try and give him an anchor."

"It seems to have worked," Peggy said, keeping her tone light, delicate, not pressing lest Darcy fall silent again. This seemed to be something she wanted to talk about, however. And perhaps needed to talk about.

"It did. I don't really know why. He probably doesn't either." She laughed again, a little ragged, a little forced. "Man, the looks everybody gave me when I said I'd met him. You'd think I was out juggling armed warheads or something."

Peggy's eyebrows rose. "He was that dangerous?"

"Oh, the most dangerous," Darcy said easily, but there was an edge to her voice. "I've honestly never seen my SO frightened before, but he scared her. She was not thrilled when the Director made him my asset."

"And you were okay with it?"

Rolling her head on her neck, in a gesture that suggested she hadn't been bothered, she said, "He talked to me and I offered to help him. I gave him my word. I was going to do it anyway, I guess," she told Peggy thoughtfully, "whatever the Director said."

"Ah, stubborn Starks," Peggy said with a roll of her eyes.

"The most stubborn," Darcy replied, smirking over at her. "The day he laughed again, and meant it, that was worth everything. It's the biggest victory I've ever had."

Good lord. What must the man have been through that a laugh was such a triumph? "And how did you become partners?"

"Ah," she waved a hand and got a mulish look on her face. "He got mad at me for going off on an op and not telling him. Then he got mad at the Director for sending me on the op without backup. He said if I was going out again he was going with me. The Director, I guess he figured he may as well just make it official."

"The op didn't go well, I take it."

Darcy blew out a long breath and snorted. "Nope. Went pretty sideways pretty much immediately."

"Firefight?" Peggy guessed with a knowing smile.

"Oh yeah. Shootout in the woods of Minnesota, of all the damn places." She huffed and grumped, "The big jerk followed me from New York. He said he was expecting me to get into trouble. Excuse me, he's at least as big a trouble magnet as I am. Mister 'hey come pick shrapnel out of my back'. Mr. 'I'll just get myself blown up in flipping Estonia, why don't I?'." 

"Sounds like you two have had fun."

Darcy smiled, but it was tense and distant. "For a long time, I thought I was the one holding him together, that that was my job on our team. And maybe it was. But, I'm realizing just how much he did that for me, too. I could really use him right now and he's not here." She sat forward, bracing her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. "I owe him a dance," she muttered in a barely audible voice, pain twisting across her face. 

Those last words echoed in Peggy's head. One of the first things Darcy'd told her; _'Steve Rogers owed you a dance'._ What a hell of a thing for history to record. 

Taking a steadying moment against the lingering ache of grief in her chest, Peggy raised her head stared down at her time-lost flatmate. "I will get you home. You will get your dance with your soldier."

Darcy let out a deep breath and gave a short nod. 

"Darcy Lewis, you will get home," Peggy told her with a firm voice and a severe look. "We will see to it. Have you so little faith in us?"

"No," Darcy admitted with a sigh. "I believe you."

"Then buck up, Agent, and go save Jarvis from Howard making him pack your delicates."

Barking a short, startled laugh, Darcy stood up to give Peggy a sharp salute. "Yes, ma'am."

When Darcy'd gone off, hollering at Howard to leave Jarvis alone, Peggy sat back in her chair, crossing her legs and glancing out the window. Steve. So much kept coming back to him. Darcy seemed to know quite a lot about him, and something in her repeated protestations that she simply liked to read history books didn't ring quite true. Howard, she supposed, which would explain her caginess — Peggy knew Darcy never met her grandfather, a fact she went to great lengths to obscure. Undoubtedly he'd shared stories with his son, who in turn shared them with his daughter. That was a nice thought. Steve would be remembered by those who'd loved him, remembered across generations. He'd be remembered in Howard's stories, and perhaps her own, as more than a cartoon hero on the radio. He'd like that. Oh, he'd blush and roll his eyes and insist he wasn't that big of a deal, but he'd like that there were people who loved him enough to share the life of Captain Steve Rogers with their children and grandchildren. 

"Hey, English, you coming or what?"

Peggy looked up and rolled her own eyes at Angie standing in the doorway, tapping her foot. Pushing herself out of the chair, Peggy waved a hand at her friend. "I'm coming."

"Well, get packing." Angie hooked her arm through Peggy's and dragged her into the hall. "Howard's taking us to the townhouse. The one on 5th Avenue." 

"How wonderful," Peggy said dryly. 

"Ah, don't be like that, Peggy. It's right across the street from Central Park," she said, her voice raising in excitement. "Geez, he calls it a townhouse, but it's a mansion, I tell you. I rode by it on the bus once. We'll be living like queens."

Eyebrows raising, Peggy asked, "What do you call living here?"

"Princesses, maybe. Duchesses? I don't know, something like that." Angie shrugged and gave Peggy a shove towards her room. "You'd know better than me." 

"Two clever, independent women making their way in a man's world?" Peggy suggested, opening the door. 

"Whatever. I can be that any old day. Tonight, I'm living it up in a mansion."

"Well, as exciting as I'm sure that will be, I am sorry that we've got to move for a few weeks. I know that's inconvenient for you."

Angie leaned against the door frame to her own room and shook her head. "Geez, Darcy's already apologized about fifty times, don't you start, too. Yeah, sure, it's further from work, and normally that'd be a real pain in the keister, at least three connections on the bus, but Mr. Jarvis fixed it already. I get a driver. Me, a driver." Angie laughed and rolled off the frame and into her room. "Pack quick, English."

With a shake of her head, Peggy disappeared into her own room and pulled out her suitcase. Clothes, toiletries, a few small keepsakes she didn't want any Leviathan agents to toss about when they inevitably broke into the penthouse. She didn't have much she couldn't bear to part with, and she truly hoped they wouldn't be staying with Howard for very long, so there was no sense bringing more. Anything she missed, she could come back for. 

She'd just plucked the picture she kept of Steve off the vanity, when she heard the sounds of somebody behind her. Turning she saw Darcy staring curiously at the photograph. 

Holding it out to her, Peggy said, "Steve Rogers, before the serum."

Darcy took a couple steps into the room and gingerly lifted the photograph from Peggy's fingers. 

"Look at him," she chuckled, but there was a strange sad fondness in her face. "Stubborn little guy."

"He was that. Bloody-minded, I'd say." Peggy laughed a little and took the picture back. 

"I'm sorry you lost him," Darcy said quietly. 

"We lost a lot of good men in the war," she replied, tucking the photograph into a book and then into her suitcase.

"Still, I am sorry."

"He knew what he was doing, and he made his choice," Peggy said firmly. The grief was still there and perhaps it always would be, but she could breathe through it now. It didn't threaten to swallow her whole anymore. "He sacrificed himself so a lot of people could live."

"Yeah."

Peggy looked at Darcy who was still staring at the book, the sadness fading to an actual melancholy. "Is there something you needed? Howard's not being impossible is he?"

"What?" Darcy looked up and forced a tiny smile. "Nothing like that. Agent Sousa is here to see you."

Peggy closed her case and let out a long breath. "Ah. I meant to talk to you about him tonight, actually."

"I guess you told him who I really am?"

Peggy gave her a contrite look. "Was it that obvious?"

Darcy laughed. "He could barely get the words out to ask to see you, he kept getting distracted by the staring and confused frowning."

"I did want to talk to you about it, why I did it. He's a good sort, and he's an excellent agent."

Shrugging easily, Darcy stepped back towards the door, gesturing to Peggy to follow. "Well, we did guess he'd be the one to figure out our story stunk. I'm just sorry I put you into a weird spot with your friend."

"It's hardly the first time a Stark has done that," Peggy said with an amused huff. "Goes with the territory, I suppose. I wouldn't help if I couldn't live with that."

"We do kind of do that a lot, don't we?" Darcy asked with a wince. "Gotta work on that. Geez, remind me to tell Rico he can tell his mom about me when I get home, would you?"

Lifting an eyebrow at the other woman, Peggy's lips turned up into a knowing smile. "Ah, so you've accepted you're getting home?"

"I know I am," Darcy said with a weary sigh. "It just gets hard sometimes."

They stepped into the foyer and Daniel did, indeed, stare when Darcy came into view. She smirked back and he blinked. 

"Agent Sousa," she said, walking towards him, her hand outstretched. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Darcy Lewis, Howard Stark's granddaughter."

Shooting Peggy a bemused look, Daniel took her hand in a quick shake. "Still Lewis?"

"God, don't get Howard started on that," Darcy groaned and let go of his hand. 

"Yes," Peggy said quickly, "please don't."

Daniel nodded and tucked his hand into his pocket, clearly uncomfortable and unsure what to say. Darcy picked up on it. "Agent Sousa, I know it's a crazy story, I guess I can't really ask you to believe it all, but I'd be really grateful for your help. Not that it isn't fun seeing everybody here, but I just want to go home." 

"We'll do our best," he assured her with a thin smile. 

"I promise to try not to get into too much more trouble. I mean, I can't promise I won't, but I promise I'll try," she told him with a wry twist to her lips. 

He laughed at that a little. "I'd appreciate that."

"Sure." She glanced at Peggy, and stepped back. "I'll let you two talk."

"Actually, Miss Lewis, I think maybe I ought to just tell you, too," Daniel said, his face falling into a severe expression. "Seems were all in this together now."

Peggy studied him, reading the rigid lines in his shoulders and across his face. "What's wrong, Daniel?"

"We got a phone call from the MPs at Pine Camp. It got lost in the shuffle for a while with the shooting and all." He tapped his crutch on the floor and looked around the foyer. "One of the guards at the SSR compound didn't report in for his shift last night. When they went looking for him this morning, he was found in his car, shot through the head."

Darcy went still next to Peggy, her eyes narrowing and her body tensing. "No witnesses, I guess."

"Nobody heard anything, nobody saw anything," he confirmed with a shake of his head. "And that's not all. Sgt. Reilly didn't report for his shift this morning, either. When they went by to check on him, they found his rooms tossed, blood on the floor and walls, but no sign of him."

Sucking on her cheeks, Darcy stared intently at the wall, lost in thought. 

"They're cleaning up," Peggy muttered. 

"Why wait until now?" Darcy asked. "What changed? I mean, this was before I tried to drop that guy this morning."

Daniel made a noise of agreement and said, "It explains how they had a shooter in place so quickly."

"They were ready," Peggy said grimly. "Right. Darcy, get Howard and Jarvis, I'll get Angie. We're leaving now, packed or not." 

"One more thing," Daniel said, stopping Peggy. "It may have been part of the story you made up for Miss Lewis, but I think we might actually have a mole in the SSR. Thompson was hot for days to go get Miss Lewis. He had the pickup planned since the day before yesterday. The shooter knew when and where we'd be. It may be they decided to cut off the loose ends now, but the placement wasn't a coincidence."

Peggy pursed her lips and silently cursed Thompson. "I didn't hear that. I presume he kept it to a few people."

"Yeah." He gave her an apologetic look and a shrug. "I'll figure out who knew."

"Be careful," Darcy said. "If he thinks I'm part of some conspiracy, don't let him suspect you might be in on it."

With a half smile, Daniel shrugged. "Don't worry. I can handle Jack Thompson. There is one piece of good news, I think you'd like to know. Berman made it out of surgery. The Doctors are pretty sure he'll pull through."

Darcy closed her eyes in relief and when she opened them again she grinned broadly at Daniel. "That is amazing news. Thank you, Agent Sousa."

"Sure thing. So, better go get, uh, your grandpa?" 

Darcy snickered. "Oh, he loves it when I call him that."

Daniel's brow furrowed in a disbelieving frown. "Does he?"

"Not even a little bit." She offered him another grin and turned around. "Howard! We're leaving now!" She strode out of the foyer to hunt down Howard. 

"You're coming with us, I assume," Peggy commented when Daniel made no move to leave himself. 

"Yeah. Just until you get wherever." He said, raising his chin in challenge. "I know you can take care of yourself, but another agent can't hurt."

"I agree," she said, not wanting to argue the point in the least. She knew her capabilities, Darcy had proved hers, but with an unknown threat, she'd be glad to have Daniel with them, as well. "We're going to Howard's townhouse on 5th."

Daniel let out a low whistle. "Nice."

"Angie insists it's a mansion, but a city block would still be close quarters when it's Howard." Peggy turned on her heel and tossed back over her shoulder. "Five minutes, even if I have to carry every one of them out."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was getting ridiculously long (it took a turn I didn't expect in the second half). So, rather than make you wait for this, I thought I'd break it into two parts. That will work better for me anyway. 
> 
> That will also mean that, hopefully, the next one will be out around mid-week, then.

"State-of-the-art security," Howard pronounced, keying them into the inside door of the townhouse. 

"Nice," Darcy commented, her tone mild, but she looked amused. "Fifteen seconds, maybe."

"Fifteen seconds what?"

"That's how long it would take me to break in."

Howard glared at her and opened the door, stomping through. Sousa's eyebrows shot up and he gave Peggy a look. She pressed her lips together with a resigned head shake and followed the Starks into the building.

"Well, that was just the first part of the security," Howard continued, keying another panel inside the door, hidden behind a picture frame. 

"Sure," Darcy said, giving him an easy shrug.

"And, we're having guests. Anybody breaks in, they're in for a hell of a surprise." He turned in the foyer and crossed his arms, staring Darcy down. "I'm going to need you to show me how you'd get in."

Peggy sighed rubbed at her forehead. "Later, Howard."

He scowled. "I want to harden the systems."

"I'm sure you do, and that will, no doubt, be a fun project for you and Darcy this weekend, but it's been an exhausting day."

"Fine." He let his arms drop and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Come on, sweetheart, I'll show you your room. It's got a garden terrace, but lousy angles if anybody wants to take another potshot at you. I think you'll like it."

Darcy gave him a fond smile, a silent apology for questioning his security, and slipped her arm through his. "That sounds great. Thank you, Howard."

"I really do want to know how you'd get in," he said as they walked down the hall and to the stairway. 

"I'll help you toughen it up. And, I do have an unfair advantage," she admitted. "So who are our guests?"

He laughed a little and they started up the stairs. "That's a surprise."

"Howard," she whined.

"You're just going to have to be patient."

"I'm a Stark; we don't do patient," she grumbled petulantly, and the argument trailed off as they ascended to the upper floors. 

"Would you look at this place," Angie muttered, drawing a finger across a marble-topped side-board and leaning in to sniff at freshly cut flowers in a large Waterford vase. "It's a palace."

"Half-an-hour ago it was a mansion," Peggy said, stepping forward to let Jarvis bustle into the foyer with their bags — he refused every offer of assistance. 

"That was before I got a look at inside. Do you see that chandelier?" She said, pointing at the massive structure of gold and crystal above their heads. 

"It's hard to miss," Peggy agreed. 

Jarvis set down the bags and straightened his back. "Early-century, done in the Louis XVI style, ormolu and crystal on brass."

"What the heck is ormolu?" Angie asked, wandering further down the hall, examining the gilt-framed landscapes.

"It's a process of gold-plating. Quite toxic." Jarvis told her with a thin smile. 

Angie spun on her heel to face him and pointed up at the fixture again. "That's real gold?"

"Yes, Miss Martinelli."

She dropped her eyes to Peggy and nodded. "A palace."

Peggy nodded back in acceptance. "I'll defer to your judgement."

Jarvis glanced at Daniel, probably trying to decide if he should show the man out or offer him refreshments. Peggy saved him from the decision, "Mr. Jarvis, I think Angie would like to see her room, and perhaps a little tour?"

He smiled. "Quite right. Shall we, Miss Martinelli?"

"Let's do it, Mr. Jarvis." She went for her bag, but Jarvis got there first and raised an eyebrow at her as she gave him a look half-way between flattered and irritated. 

"I think the Rose Room will suit you very well," he commented and began to lead her away. "It's got a lovely view of the park."

"The room's got a name even?"

"Yes, miss. And it's been refurbished recently; very comfortable, if I may say."

As they walked off, Jarvis was pointing out features of the house while Angie cooed at the furnishings and chattered back at him. Jarvis was no doubt pleased to have a receptive audience with whom to share his knowledge of history and decor, and Angie soaked it up with enthusiasm. 

Peggy smiled and shook her head before turning back to Daniel and saying, "So, we made it without incident."

"I guess we did." He looked around the foyer and then up at the chandelier, uncertain under the weight of that much grandeur and brass. "Would you take it wrong if I asked to check the windows and doors?"

"Well, since I planned to do so myself, between the two of us, I imagine we can make quick work of it."

"Quick? Do you see the size of this pile?" He huffed a little laugh. "You go left, I'll go right?"

Peggy opened the door to a room on her left and tossed him a wry look. "Send up a flare if you get lost."

The check of the first two floors alone took nearly an hour, and she got a detailed look at the impressive degree of security on the windows and exterior doors. As she moved from room to room she considered just how Darcy might break in, and if she was really that good or perhaps simply being overly cocky to get Howard's goat. When she was satisfied the place was more secure than just about any other highly sensitive building Peggy'd ever been in, she made her way back to the foyer and tried to find Daniel in the warren of rooms and corridors. 

Following the sound of voices to a large study, she discovered Howard and Daniel engaged in conversation. 

"So what decided you about her?" Daniel asked, still the investigator, still trying to find solid proof he could buy about Darcy's story. 

Howard laughed and held up a decanter, offering Daniel a drink and Peggy, too, once he spotted her entrance. Both agents declined. "Aside from knowing things she couldn't have?"

"You had somebody stealing and selling your stuff not even six months ago," Daniel responded, impatient at having to point that out, and he lowered himself into a over-stuffed, leather armchair. "People find out things."

Howard's lips quirked up into an amused smile. "True enough. Still, if you really want proof, you should take a look at her glasses." He crossed over to the desk in front of the windows and pulled open drawers, shuffling through the contents. 

Peggy dropped into the armchair next to Daniel's and let out a long breath. "Her glasses?" She prompted. 

Glancing up, smirking, he nodded. "You remember when that sergeant brought them in to her? Remember how twisted up the frame was? Or what was left of it. Geez, one of the arms looked like it'd been heated up and stretched out. But not a crack in the lenses. Hell, there's barely any scratching." 

Daniel sucked on his cheeks, unimpressed. "So, they got lucky."

"Not that kind of lucky." Howard shot back and opened another drawer, finally finding what he was looking for. He pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle and walked back over to the seating area, where he perched on the edge of the couch and set down the bundle on the coffee table. Unwrapping the cloth, he pulled out two clear disks. 

"Her glasses. She thought about rebuilding the frames, but we decided it was better if she wore a contemporary pair, in case something happened." He plucked up one of the lenses and showed it to Daniel. "They're made of plastic. Darcy was frustratingly vague about it, but they're some sort of polyurethane-based compound, layered in sheets. You can see it on the edges there."

"Huh." Daniel took the lens and turned it in his hands. 

"They're lighter than glass, and stronger," Howard continued, picking up the second lens, peering at it. "That's how they survived the trip. The frames were destroyed, looked like maybe there was some electrical arcing over the metal, but these made it."

Peggy frowned at Howard, she could see the implications if not the scope of the items; it was enough that they caught his attention. Of course, he might have spared her some concerns if he'd bothered to bring this up earlier. Slightly irritated, she asked, "You couldn't have told me this?"

"Honestly, I forgot," Howard said, shrugging, unperturbed as ever by her irritation. "I didn't really need the glasses to believe her. I already told you that. But, they just made it easier to confirm what I already thought."

"So, these aren't contemporary?" Daniel asked, setting down the lens he was holding.

"Nobody anywhere is making anything like this," Howard told him, shaking his head. "Looks pretty simple, but this isn't technology anybody has today."

"You're sure?"

Howard huffed, his expression going dark with offense, "Of course I'm sure. There've been some attempts to make plastic lenses, but they're thick, really thick, and there's a lot of distortion. Plus, they're brittle and get scratched to hell if you even look at 'em wrong."

Daniel frowned, trying to piece together how something so simple could be such a revelation. "Nobody?" He pressed, squinting up at Howard. "Not the Russians or something?"

"No. Look, construction suggests they're mass-produced then cut and shaped to the wearer and frame." He flipped the lens in his hand. "Polyurethanes have been around for a decade or so, but nobody is mass-producing any sort of material like this. Believe me, I'd know; there are a million other applications for this stuff. We're decades away. It's not the plastic, so much as it's the thinness and toughness. Plastic lenses, sure, maybe five, ten years away, but comparing Darcy's prescription in glass to these? These are nearly half as thick and a quarter of the weight. You should hear her complain about how heavy her new glasses are. No," he shook his head, "this technology is more like fifty years off. At least."

Daniel blinked down at the lenses and glanced over at Peggy. "Huh."

"What are you going to do with them?" Peggy asked, eyebrow rising. Even innocuous as they seemed, Howard got a gleam in his eyes at the plastic lenses. 

He let out a long sigh, a rueful expression on his face. "Don't worry. Darcy already made me promise to destroy them. We're just holding on to them for now in case we needed proof. Came in handy, right?"

"I suppose it's too late for you to try to forget what you know about them," Peggy said with a weary sigh.

"I'm not going to break the timeline," Howard snorted. "Darcy'd come back just to strangle me if I did."

Peggy chuckled at that. "I suppose she would, too. She's a very determined sort."

"Starks." He spread his hands and grinned at her. He was enjoying having Darcy around, far too much. Peggy's heart twisted for him; would be a painful loss when she finally returned home. "It's how we are."

Offering him a thin, challenging smile in return, she said, "A fact with which I am painfully familiar."

Howard turned to Daniel and narrowed his eyes at the other man, searching his face for some hint of his thoughts. "Convinced yet, Agent Sousa?"

"I guess so," he said slowly. "Hard as it is to believe."

"You just gotta get it into your head that nothing's really impossible," Howard told him, voice light and unconcerned. He never seemed to realize that what was an easy thought for him, could be difficult for others to grasp. "It's all just degrees of probability. Sure, this is fairly improbable most of the time, but the Tesseract is not from Earth. We're dealing with technology so far beyond us it might as well be sorcery." 

That caught Daniel and his head jerked back slightly. "You're not really saying that thing was from outer space or something, are you?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Howard told him, looking smug at the agent's shock.

Peggy growled under her breath. Daniel was trying to help them, teasing him was an obnoxious repayment for that help. 

With a glare for Howard, she sat forward and explained, "The lore we were able to gather about it, was that it was left here by a race of beings who were on Earth some two millennia ago or more. They contributed to much of the ancient Norse mythology. You know how the Nazis were obsessed with all that. Schmidt even more so than the others."

"Believe it or not, Darcy's actually a pretty good source of information about that," Howard put in. "They're most commonly known as Asgardians."

"What? Like Thor and Odin and all that?" Daniel asked. "You're saying they were real?"

"Seems so." Howard shrugged.

"She never said anything about them to me," Peggy said, feeling slightly and unaccountably stung. It wasn't that Darcy never talked to her; the other woman would and could talk about any number of subjects at length, but they most frequently centered around daily life subjects — the little things everybody today took for granted. The simplest things could trip her up, though she covered well until she could corner Peggy or Jarvis for an explanation. She also had plenty of questions about the SSR, and wasn't beyond sharing tales of her life growing up. But, so much of the rest of her life was shrouded in a degree of mystery. 

"She slipped, I don't know, a few days ago," Howard told her, an odd look on his face, like he was chagrined on Darcy's behalf. "Mentioned Asgard and her pal Thor."

Peggy's eyebrows rose to her hairline. Darcy knew snipers and assassins and gods, apparently. Well, her life certainly wasn't boring. Peggy'd had plenty of indications of that, but this was surprising even by the standards Darcy set. "The Thor? The God of Thunder Thor?" 

"Yeah. Nice guy, I guess." Howard shook off his chagrin and smirked. "It came up when we were talking about the Tesseract, and she gave me some more background on it. Nothing, unfortunately that will help us much. 70 years in the future is still nowhere near technologically advanced enough to understand the cube. Except we've got some ideas now about the sort of energy signature it generates. We might be able to track the missing power conversion unit, or at least narrow down where it might be. We're still working on how to pick it up over a larger area, so don't stop beating the bushes or anything." 

"No, we won't," Peggy agreed. If they could track the device itself, then they'd still need a team to take it. There was little hope of getting Thompson onside without risking possession of the unit. "When's Dugan due?"

"Aw, Peg, you spoiled it." Howard grumped and crossed his arms, the very picture of childish petulance.

"Oh, please," she scoffed with a wave of her hand, "who else would you invite who could hope to hold off whoever Hydra or Leviathan might send? It wasn't hard to guess. I'm surprised Darcy hasn't herself."

"Well if she has, she hasn't said, so don't you tell her." Howard scowled at her. "It's still a surprise. Plus, I thought, as often as she talks about them, she'd like to meet them."

"Who all is coming?"

"Dugan and Morita for sure. Some of them were out on something when I called, but Dum Dum was going to round up who he could. They'll be in tomorrow by lunch. I think we can hold out for a night."

"What did you tell him?"

"Only that she's my cousin," he assured her. "Just saves us having to explain everything. Again."

Daniel ran a hand over his jaw and shook his head. "Geez, what a day. Honestly, I was only thinking she was some sort of secret agent; part of a crew you were running, Stark." He laughed to himself and stood up, grabbing his crutch. "Now it's all girls from the future and aliens from outer space. I'm going to head back to the office and deal with the things closer to home and hope my head stops buzzing. And anyway, I want to run over those reports from Pine Camp again, see if they've got an update on Sgt. Reilly's whereabouts, too." 

Peggy began to rise with him. "I'll come with you."

"Nah. I'll tell Thompson you're trying to work Miss Lewis from the inside," he said with an amused quirk of his lips. "Let him know I've finally got you playing for the right team."

Peggy sat back and gave him a salute for willingly undertaking a near impossible task. "Best of luck to you. Phone if you've got anything about the shooter, too. Oh, Howard, what's the number here?"

Howard strode back to his desk and wrote the phone number down on a piece of paper. "Here. Jarvis will drive you back."

Taking the paper, Daniel tucked it into his pocket and shook his head. "Nah, it's fine, I'll take the bus."

"Don't be an idiot." Howard rolled his eyes and stomped to the door, sticking his head out and shouting for Jarvis. 

Peggy let out an exasperated breath. "You couldn't politely ring for him?"

"Why?"

Jarvis appeared in the door and gave Howard a flat look. "Yes, sir?"

"Take Sousa back to the station, would you?"

"Certainly, sir."

Daniel walked over to the two men and gave Jarvis an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. It's really no problem taking the bus."

"Nonsense, Agent Sousa," Jarvis told him with polite cordialness. "As you came here with us, I assumed you'd require a ride and left the car out."

"See?" Howard said, tossing the word in Peggy's direction. "Relax, Peg. Geez."

"Howard," Darcy's voice drifted down the hall to them.

"What?" Howard shouted back.

"Quit yelling at Mr. Jarvis."

"Thank you, Miss," Jarvis said, raising his voice, but neatly falling short of doing something as ill-bred as shouting.

"You're welcome. Hey Howard, who's coming?"

"None of your business."

"It better be Dum Dum Dugan."

"Damn it," Howard grumbled quietly and ground his teeth, before yelling back, "You'll just have to wait and see."

Peggy put a hand over her eyes and laughed. Lord, she would murder them both inside of a week. "Find something, Daniel. Find anything," she begged.

"I will do my level best," he promised her solemnly, but his lips were pressed thin against his own laughter. "Also, it's getting easier to see."

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," she warned him with a smirk. 

Howard broke into their conversation, forever hating to find himself on the outside of somebody's attention, "You might as well come back for dinner."

Surprised, Daniel nodded. "If you're sure."

"Yeah, I want to know what you find, too. So will Darcy."

"Okay, why not?" Daniel shook Howard's hand briefly and nodded over to Peggy. 

Jarvis stepped out of the doorway and waved a hand for Daniel to proceed him. "Cocktails at six-thirty and dinner at seven, sir. It will be an informal, family meal." 

"So I can leave my spats at home?" Daniel asked, voice dry. 

"I wouldn't dream of limiting your sartorial choices, Mr. Sousa." Jarvis offered him a genuine and amused smile and ushered him down the hall. 

Howard shut the door on the two men, and turned to cross back over to the decanter he'd been distracted from earlier. "You sure you don't want one?"

"It's far too early." Peggy took a moment to let the tension of the day drain out of her shoulders. Enemy agents, a sniper, murders at Pine Camp, and the flight from the penthouse to the townhouse. Lord, what a day. It was only two in the afternoon. 

"How's she doing?" Howard brought his glass back over to the couch and stretched out on the leather. 

"You've spent as much time with her today as I have," Peggy told him, propping an elbow on the arm of her chair and making herself comfortable. For all his faults, Howard was never a stickler for propriety and it was easy enough to find oneself at home around him. "The murders at the camp have her more on edge than the shooting, I think. I have to admire her resilience."

"Did she say anything new today?"

"Some talk about her partner."

Howard straightened at that and gave her an intent look, his attention fully on her. "What about?"

"Nothing much more," Peggy said with a light roll of her shoulders. "The sniper put her in mind of him. Though, she did mention he was her asset first."

"Really?" Howard drew the word out in a long drawl and took a sip of his scotch. "Interesting. How would that happen, though? Thought he was American Army." 

"I don't know. You know how she gets when he comes up. Skittish. I gather he's dangerous, however. Her SO is unsettled by him; the assassin, not the other sniper."

Letting out an explosive breath, aggravated and anxious about his granddaughter, Howard drained his glass and got to his feet to visit the decanter again. "I wish she'd tell us about him. Why the big secret? It's seventy years. The fellow's not even born yet. Hell, his parents probably aren't even born yet."

"I feel confident Darcy has her reasons," Peggy said patiently. "Perhaps he's the son or grandson of somebody we know or will know. Perhaps whatever happened to him was some operational foul-up that left him in the cold until Darcy brought him in. That's what she said, by the way, that she brought him in from the cold. Whatever it was, I suspect she feels the events have to play out the way they did." She raised an eyebrow at him, but lowered her chin, giving him a warning glare, "Without our interference." 

"But, if he's so dangerous—"

"Darcy knows what she's doing," Peggy said, cutting him off sharply. "And, really, Howard, for all she says about him, or doesn't say as the case may be, she's never indicated he's dangerous to her. If anything, it sounds like he's been a good partner for her. And her for him. She misses him terribly. You know her well enough now to know she wouldn't tolerate any sort of poor treatment." 

"We don't even get a first name, though?" Howard argued back, this subject, more even than Darcy's silence about future technology, always nettled him. Darcy didn't seem bothered by his protectiveness; according to her, her father frequently threatened to lock her in a bunker. Howard hadn't gone quite that far. Yet. "We know all about Rico. And that Clint fellow. But she won't say her other trainer's name, won't mention her partner's name, shut up tight about her other best friend, too."

"I know it's rather contrary to your nature, Howard, but I truly believe there are things we're not meant to know. Darcy has her reasons," she repeated, firm on the point of trusting the instincts of _Agent_ Lewis. 

"Where's your curiosity, Peggy?" He demanded, his frustration lighting his mercurial temper. "That inquisitive side? The side that's a damned observant agent?"

"I'm plenty curious," she replied evenly, refusing to let his mood tug at her own, "that's why I agreed that we could compare notes about the things she tells us." It was an agreement she'd hesitated on, it felt invasive and, frankly, rude, but it seemed like a compromise that might keep Howard from endlessly pestering his granddaughter. 

"So long as they don't break a confidence," Howard said, his tone dull, repeating Peggy's one stipulation to their deal. 

"Yes. And you mustn't forget she's an agent, and from what I can see, a very good one. She knows exactly what to say and what not to say and she toes that line exceedingly well."

"Her Thor slip aside," Howard grumbled, acknowledging Peggy's point and dropping back down into a slouch on the couch. 

That _was_ an interesting slip; in her experience Darcy simply did not slip at all. "Perhaps that was something that would fall more under 'difficult to explain', rather than concern about time?" She suggested. 

"Yeah, maybe. When she said it, she looked irritated more than panicked," Howard said with a sigh. "Then she was easy enough talking about him, about how he ended up back on Earth — exiled by Odin for being a brat; her words not mine. Though she didn't say it, I'd bet that they sent the Tesseract back with him. Just as well, I guess."

"Why'd they even leave it here in the first place?"

"Darcy wasn't sure. She said there was a war here between the Asgardians and the Jüten — the Frost Giants, apparently, are real, too — and the Tesseract got left behind. Or maybe it was left here for safe-keeping. Not a bad plan, seeing as it was safe for two thousand years."

"Until a madman tracked it down."

He held his glass up to her in a lazy toast. "There is that."

Peggy watched him for a moment, watched how he chewed on his mustache, his brow creased with concern, and. how he stared into the amber liquid in his glass. "Look at you," she laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day. Howard Stark in love."

He looked up at that and scowled at her. "Hey."

"Oh, stop," Peggy waved a hand at him. "She's your granddaughter; of course you love her. And she adores you. It's sweet."

His face drew down into an uncharacteristic expression of uncertainty. "Does she?" 

"Of course she does," she assured him. "I know you worry, Howard, but, it's worth considering that your granddaughter is charismatic enough to befriend the God of Thunder. It sounds like she has very good friends on her side."

"It does, doesn't it?" He cheered a bit at that thought. "Snipers, assassins, gods, scientists," he said, echoing her earlier thoughts. "Hell of a life that kid has."

"She seems happy."

"Yeah. Sometimes." He rubbed at his mustache, an anxious gesture, not quite ready to move on past his concerns. "She's got something tearing at her."

Peggy sighed. "I know."

"You ever notice how odd she gets when Steve comes up? A million questions about the Commandos but hardly ever anything about Steve."

Pursing her lips, Peggy looked away from him. She had noticed, and noticed again earlier that afternoon with the photograph, but Darcy got nearly as odd when her father or her soldier came up. Those subjects were obviously very personal, boundaries that were not to be crossed, and Darcy defended those boundaries with rigid firmness. But the truth was, Steve's loss wounded them both deeply, and so perhaps, it was only that mention of him with Darcy's reactions, simply stood out more.

"Peg?"

"I have noticed," she said. "But, I think you might be reading too much into it. I know she grew up on stories about him. That's hardly surprising, given your friendship with him. In a peculiar sort of way, he might almost be a part of the family. And she certainly knows what he meant to us. Frankly, I think we all get a bit odd when he's mentioned."

"I suppose we do," he muttered. 

"Though, brace yourself, she loves that rubbish Captain America show. Listens to it every chance she can."

He laughed, his mood finally lifting. "She told me they made a few movies about him, too. One came out when she was in college, a whole big budget deal — almost a hundred million bucks, if you can believe that. She said it wasn't bad, and you came out pretty good in it."

"Me or _Betty Carver_?" Her lips curled in distaste at the name and she shuddered at the thought of how a Hollywood shoot-'em-up would portray her.

"You. All the way from Steve's training, before the serum, to … well, to after everything. She did say real you is better, though."

Snorting softly, Peggy shook her head. "And how did you fare?"

"Not too bad. It was a small part, though." He pouted and drained his glass just as the doorbell chimed through the house. He groaned and got to his feet, pout still in place. 

"You do realize she says things like that simply to get under your skin, don't you?" Peggy asked, laughing at the downtrodden expression and drooping mustache. 

"She's a brat," he acknowledged, giving her a dry smile as he headed for the door. 

"And you love her." Peggy called out to him. 

"And I love her."

He hadn't even reached the door when they heard loud voices coming from the entry hall. Jarvis wasn't back yet, but surely Darcy would be smart enough not to open the door to strangers. Wouldn't she? Howard shot Peggy an alarmed look, before dashing back to the desk to pull a revolver out of a drawer. Peggy rose and snatched a large glass ashtray from the table, then once Howard rejoined her, she pulled open the door cautiously. When nobody shot at them, Peggy took the lead, hefting the heavy makeshift weapon, ready to let it fly. 

Halfway down the corridor, a booming voice echoed off the marble, "Doesn't seem right, him making his lovely cousin answer the door. Where is that SOB?" 

Peggy lowered the ashtray and snorted a laugh, while Howard let out a long, aggrieved breath. They couldn't hear Darcy's reply, but Dugan's was clear enough. "Peg's here, too? Fantastic. Move in, boys; we're making camp."

Howard tossed the pistol onto a chair, and Peggy deposited the ashtray on a pedestal, shoving it behind an ugly and, no doubt, priceless vase. 

"You're early," Howard declared as he strode into the hall. 

"Stark, how ya been?" Dum Dum Dugan stepped forward and pulled Howard into a bear hug. 

Howard tolerated it for nearly a second before shoving at Dugan's arms. "Alright, alright, hands off." 

Dugan let him go and stepped back only far enough to reach around him to pull Peggy into a hug of her own. "I will break your legs, Timothy," she grumbled, but gave him a sound thump on the back. 

Dugan laughed, loud and rich, and let her go to address Howard again. "You sounded worried. You never sound worried. Figured it had to be dire, so I grabbed these two," he waved a hand at Morita and Dernier, "and commandeered a plane. Gabe's bringing the rest of the fellows tomorrow."

Howard's eyebrow rose and he asked, "How much is it going to cost me to get you out of this court-martial?"

"Couple cases of bourbon should do it." Dugan shrugged and grinned. "I did ask before we just took the plane."

Darcy stood back, an amused smile on her lips. "It's, what? Fifteen hours from Europe? When did you call them, Howard?"

Scratching at his jaw, Howard looked mildly guilty, like a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar, and said, "Day before yesterday."

"Uh-huh. Good timing," she commented, giving him a look.

"I figured something would break soon. I didn't figure they'd take a shot at you, or I would have called Dugan a hell of a lot sooner," he said, sniffing and twitching his mustache. "Besides, I think we'll need them to help us get the box back."

Dugan frowned and looked at Darcy. "Somebody took a shot at you?"

Dernier's mouth fell open, appalled at the thought of somebody attacking a woman, and Morita shifted his feet, looking like he'd really quite like to shoot back at whomever. And once again, Darcy had managed to get three strangers on side in the span of minutes. Peggy was beginning to envy the ease with which she managed it. 

"They missed," Darcy said, baring her teeth in a cocky grin. 

Dugan stared down at her, his mouth slightly agape. Peggy could imagine what he saw; Darcy was a lovely woman, but not particularly large, and she was wearing a simple cream blouse and blue trousers, nondescript but feminine. But the blouse had blood on one sleeve and her lower lip was split where she'd knocked it against the back of the car seat earlier. With the differences in their height, as Darcy grinned up at Dugan, there was something of a scrappy, child-like hooligan in her looks. She seemed as likely to pick somebody's pockets as offer them polite conversation. 

After a moment, Dugan shook his head. "Starks. You're all nuts." But, then he laughed again gave her a respectful nod. "I'm going to like you, I can tell."


	9. Chapter 9

Creeping down the corridor, Peggy paused at a door, pulled her compact out of her pocket and angled the mirror to look into the second floor sitting room. Morita was sprawled on his back on the expensive and somewhat gaudy silk rug.

"Bloody hell," Peggy hissed to herself, and took a moment to listen to the sounds of the house around her before she judged it safe and darted into the room to kneel at his side. 

"Morita?"

"She got me good, Peg," he said, eyes still closed. 

"Any hope?"

"Nope. Knife through my throat." One eye opened and he smiled up at her. "She apologized."

"I'm sure she did," Peggy sighed. "Don't go sweet on her, Howard will kill you dead for real."

He laughed a little and closed his eyes again, lacing his hands together over his stomach, apparently happy to be dead when it afforded the opportunity for a nap. "I'm not that stupid." 

Howard, in his questionable wisdom, decided that with three Commandos and an agent in the house, the afternoon was a perfectly good time to test his security. Darcy would play the Leviathan agent breaking in, and Angie was playing the role of her target; she'd thought it a fun lark. Peggy was very seriously starting to question all of her friends' notions of fun.

Sitting back on her heels, Peggy listened to the sounds around her again. The soft noise of traffic drifted past the windows, but all else was still and quiet. Games aside, it was enough to raise the hair on her arms. 

"How'd she get the drop on you?"

"Geez, Peggy, she's fast. I didn't even see her until the last second, and she got me flat on my back before I could move." 

Peggy blinked at that. Darcy was an agent, she knew and accepted that fact, and she'd seen the other woman slip seamlessly into more than a few roles over the span of moments. Darcy'd also proved her ability to keep her head during the shooting, but to get the drop on a battle-hardened Commando was something else entirely. She made a mental revision to her assessment of Agent Lewis's capabilities. Perhaps they hadn't taken the spirit of the exercise as seriously as they might, but she ought to have known a Stark would go for the throat — literally in Morita's case — no matter the game. 

Patting Morita on the shoulder, she got back to her feet. "We'll throw you a hell of a wake."

"Thanks," he muttered and yawned. 

"Enjoy your death." 

"Sure. Wake me for dinner, huh?"

Shaking her head, Peggy headed back to the door, checking the corridor with her mirror; she would not continue to make the mistake of playing a game with Darcy. The other woman was taking this seriously, and she would meet that intent with her own. Once certain the coast was clear, she slipped into the corridor and began making her way to the next room. 

There was no telling how far Darcy'd got yet, and Morita, being dead, couldn't give her any information on when he'd met his demise. Angie was on the third floor, secured in a small bedroom, no doubt lounging with tea and chocolates and some novel or other, while Dernier kept watch. However, Peggy was certain there must be multiple ways to the upper floors. The question was, how many had Darcy found? 

After clearing the second floor, spotting no signs of Darcy, she made her way to the nearest stairway, moving slowly up each step, craning her head to watch the way above her. Coming around a mid-floor landing, she found Dernier. He was perched on the top step, flipping through a novel of his own. 

Grinning at her, he shrugged and said, "Je suis mort."

Peggy let out an exasperated breath. "How on earth?"

"The girl, elle est très rapide."

"Morita said as much. He's dead, too, by the way."

He frowned and shook his head. "Ah, so sad."

"How'd she get you?"

"Couteau," he said, miming being stabbed in the kidneys and the neck. "She also now has my pistolet."

"Wonderful."

"Très rapide," he repeated, still grinning. 

Any reply Peggy might have made was interrupted by the sounds of shouting and a chilling scream from the floors below her. Setting her jaw, she spun and darted down the stairs. She found Howard in the first floor entry hall, leaning against the sideboard, his mustache turned down in a sour expression. He glanced up and gave her a hurt look. 

"My own granddaughter killed me."

"How rude of her."

He put a hand to his heart. "Shot me, if you can believe it."

"Thank your lucky stars she's on our side. She killed Morita and Dernier, too."

"Poor fellows."

With a severe look, she shook her head. "This will teach you not to underestimate a woman."

"You know I know better than that, Peggy," he told her, pouting. "I've known you far too long. And maybe I haven't known her as long, but she's my blood, and we're no dummies. Didn't expect it, though; she came out of nowhere. Angie made a good show of it by screaming. But, you were too late."

"Well, if she's made it this far, I'd say you've got your work cut out for you on upgrading your security."

That made him laugh, and he gave her a bright smile as he said, "I feel a horrible sense of betrayal and yet, I'm so proud." 

"You ought to be," she commented dryly and proceeded down the hall. 

She ran into Dugan in the back corridor leading to the kitchen. 

"Oh lord," she groaned. "Tell me you're not dead, too."

"Not yet," he said with a chuckle. "I was this close to getting her, but she slipped past me. Lost her around the library."

"She knows this building far too well," Peggy grumbled. "Darcy never said she'd been here before."

"I kind of thought she was crazy thinking she could get in the house at all. Stark never said she was a spy, but I guess she wouldn't be much of one if she told us all her secrets," he said, far too cheerful about it for Peggy's tastes. "Guess this'll learn us, huh?"

"It's certainly been an enlightening afternoon," Peggy agreed. Something about Darcy's infiltration and movements was nagging in its familiarity. 

They set off together, having acknowledged the fact that Darcy was far too skilled at picking them off singly, and continued their fruitless search, until, at last, Jarvis tracked them down in the vast dining room. 

"I've been dead for about ten minutes," Jarvis announced. "Miss Lewis asked me to inform you that she's kidnapped Miss Martinelli and they are both now enjoying coffee in the morning room."

Peggy's shoulders relaxed and she couldn't help but laugh. They'd lost, and lost badly. "One agent, three commandos, whatever Howard is, and a vigilant butler, and she killed all but two of us and made off with Angie."

"Licked us good," Dugan said with a laugh of his own. 

"Well, I'll tell you what, if we do this again, I'll bloody well make certain everybody's taking it seriously," Peggy narrowed her eyes in a sour grimace. She really didn't like to lose. 

"Like I said, I had my doubts. But, when it took us longer than about ten minutes to find her, I started to wonder." Dugan leaned down to Peggy and asked in a loud whisper, "You think she'd join up? We could use her. We'd need a name for her, though."

"Oh, stop with the names," Peggy said with a fond but exasperated huff. Jarvis looked just as unimpressed by the suggestion of a nickname, and silently led them off to, presumably, the morning room. 

"Think of it, though," Dugan pressed. "She could get in just about anywhere. I mean, I like kicking in doors as much as the next fellow, but geez," he sighed, a dreamy quality in the exhalation, "just think about all the doors she could open for us."

"I'm sure she'd be flattered at the offer," Peggy told him with a roll of her eyes. Darcy would be flattered beyond anything else. She got rather dreamy herself about the Commandos. "But I don't think she'll take you up on it."

"Too bad. She's like smoke. Hey!" He clicked his fingers and pointed at her. "Smokey Lewis."

Peggy gave him a skeptical look. "That's truly awful."

"Yeah, kinda was, huh?" He winced and shook his head. "I'll work on it."

Jarvis opened the door to the morning room and let them precede him. "Shall I fetch the rest of the corpses?"

"You may as well," Peggy said. 

"Hey, English," Angie called, raising her coffee cup in greeting. Darcy did the same, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. "How'd you like that scream, huh?"

"Extremely effective," Peggy told her, walking over to join them at the breakfast table. "Blood-curdling."

"No kidding," Darcy muttered, shooting Angie a mock glare, and sticking her finger in her ear. "I think I'm deaf in this ear now."

"Sorry," Angie said, not looking very sorry at all. "I really got into the role, you know."

"And it was well played. Best hostage I ever had," Darcy praised sincerely, then nodded over to Dugan. "You almost got me."

He dropped into a seat and reached for the coffee. "You went low quicker than I expected, got right under me." He poured himself a cup and offered the carafe to Peggy. She nodded and he set about pouring her a cup as well. "Reminded me of that little girl in Russia. You remember how fast she was? Little scamp was past us before we could even think."

Peggy nodded, and added a cube of sugar to her coffee, stirring as she thought. Perhaps that's why Darcy's clear, focused infiltration and path of destruction through the house felt so familiar. Sousa'd worried she'd been another Dottie Underwood, but once the truth of Darcy's origins became clear, Peggy'd dismissed that thought. But considering it again, there were some similarities. She'd have to get a more detailed showing of how, exactly, she'd managed to overcome Morita and Dernier, before she could be certain. 

"What girl is this?" Darcy asked, eyes light with curiosity and interest, as she picked at a scone, nibbling on the pieces. 

"Oh, we went on a mission earlier in the year," Dugan said. "Came across this orphanage or boarding school or something. Only, it was a Leviathan project. They'd been training little girls to be assassins. We ran into one of the girls. Couldn't have been more than, what? Twelve, do you think, Peggy?"

"About that, yes," she murmured. 

"Cut through us like a hot knife through butter," he shook his head. "Damnedest thing I've ever seen. Stabbed me in the chest, killed another agent with my gun, then was out of there lickety-split. Never did track her down."

"We had our hands rather full," Peggy pointed out. 

Angie shuddered and made a disgusted face. "Little girls? That just ain't right."

"No," Darcy agreed, though the interest in her eyes had faded, and her expression was focused inward, distant. "Pretty creepy."

"Creepy is the word for it," Dugan said with a firm nod. "We found films, all American stuff, but with hidden messages in them to kill and destroy and like that. We're pretty sure they were teaching those girls to blend in here."

Darcy looked at Peggy and cocked her head. "Is that like that Underwood person Sousa always mentions?"

"Yes," she confirmed, unsurprised Darcy would put those pieces together so quickly. "Dottie Underwood. She was rather a problem a few months ago. This project has, apparently, been around for some time."

Narrowing her eyes, Darcy tapped a fingernail on the rim of her cup, and asked, "Leviathan? Or Soviet?"

Dugan and Peggy frowned at each other — that was a very good question, and one they'd not managed clarity on — before Dugan shrugged. "Hard to say. Leviathan for sure, but don't know how much the Ruskies are in on it, if they even are. And we didn't have a lot of time to snoop around."

"And what happened to Underwood?" Darcy asked.

"Lost track of her, too," Peggy reported. "You know, it occurs to me, she was a trained sniper."

"Ugh." Darcy made a face and shook her head. "Too many snipers."

"You'd know, I suppose," Peggy told her, laughing. 

With a sniff, Darcy titled her chin up. "I love my snipers; I don't love snipers who shoot at me."

Angie gaped at her. "You've got snipers?"

"Not in my pocket or anything," Darcy said, amused. "Just a couple friends of mine. They're out of touch right now, though."

"Too bad we lost Sarge," Dugan said with a sad smile. "He was a hell of a shot. Wouldn't mind having him here."

"Neither would I," Peggy agreed, giving him a nod. As she turned back to Darcy, ready to meet her certain questions about Sgt. Barnes, she found the other woman silent instead, staring down at the table. The skin around her eyes was tight, and her lips were pressed together until they were nearly white. Even Angie noticed, and she shot Peggy a questioning look. A sharp shake of her head was all Peggy could offer. This was getting old. Darcy could not continue to let herself sink ever further into a blue mood — each time it happened, it lasted for longer than the time before, and the funks came closer and closer together. God only knew what set this one off. 

"When's dinner?" Morita interrupted, strolling into the room with Dernier, Jarvis, and Howard in tow. 

Peggy rolled her eyes. "How was your nap?"

"Eh, okay. Till this guy woke me up with a shoe in my ribs," he jerked a thumb at Howard.

"You were drooling on my silk rug," Howard replied with a growl. "Do you know how hard it is to get drool out of silk?"

"Do you, sir?" Jarvis muttered with a long-suffering sigh. "Dinner will be in an hour. I'll check on it, shall I?" Jarvis left without waiting for any response; he seemed a little bemused at the sudden influx of houseguests and the surprise 'game'. Peggy suspected Howard forgot to inform him the Commandos were coming. 

"Hey, Morita," Dugan said, "I was just saying how Darcy reminded me of that little girl in Russia. Remember how I told you about that? What do you think? How'd she get you?"

Darcy tensed a little at the return to this subject, and she looked down at the crumbs of her scone, pushing them around with her thumb. Peggy caught the tension and watched her closely. What a curious subject for Darcy to react to, though she seemed more like she was working through a puzzle than truly upset. What an awful thought that the program may continue into her day. Of course, Darcy had mentioned her trainer the assassin. Might that woman have been part of the project, as well? How had she made her way to SHIELD?

The squeal of chair legs across marble drew Peggy away from those thoughts, and she watched Morita drag a chair over to the table. He nodded at Dugan as he sat. "Don't know where she came from, but she did some sort of spin, kicked my legs right out from under me. Never had a chance."

Dernier squeezed into a spot between Angie and Darcy, which earned him a pleased smile and some fluttered lashes from Angie. He smiled back. Oh Lord, Peggy groaned silently. 

Howard glared at Dernier, and looked helplessly at the crowded table, until he decided to pull over another chair and bull his way in between Dugan and Darcy. 

Draping his arm over the back of Darcy's chair, Howard beamed at her. "You killed me."

"I did. In cold blood, even," she snickered. 

"So, where'd you get in from?"

"Second floor reading room in the back."

Howard's jaw dropped and he looked like he wasn't sure if he ought to be angry or proud. "You climbed the walls?"

"There's a rain gutter there and a trellis," Darcy pointed out evenly. "You may as well just put a ladder up." 

Peggy snorted a laugh and Howard shot her a black look. "Or, I'll just double up the locks on that window."

Darcy shrugged. "Or that."

"Weren't you supposed to start out on the street?" Dugan asked, his face turning down into a hint of scowl at the thought that she might have cheated somehow. 

"I did, and then I went around to the back, because I figured I'd look like a prowler out front. Kind of defeats the purpose of sneaking in if somebody calls the cops," she told him, then turned back to Howard, tapping the back of her hand against his chest, "You've got to fix the lock on the side gate near the entrance off the kitchen."

Howard passed a hand over his eyes. "You picked that lock? I designed that lock."

"I know," she said with an overly sweet smile. "Still, you should fix it."

Morita leaned over the table towards Darcy. "Say, what would it take to get you to join us Commandos?" 

Dugan thumped a hand on the table. "I was saying that to Peggy. Join up, Lewis. We could use you."

"Oui, yes, very much," Dernier chipped in with a nod of his own.

"My gra— _cousin_ is not going to be a Commando," Howard said with a fierce glower. "Get your own spy."

"We tried that," Dugan argued back. "Peggy shot us down. Unless you've reconsidered?" He gave her a hopeful look.

"No," she said firmly. 

"Alright, alright. It's down to you, Lewis."

Darcy was smiling at them, her eyes filled with profound fondness. Oh yes, she was definitely flattered. It was nice to see her smile so genuinely. Perhaps Howard was on to something; it might be very good for her to have the Commandos around for a bit. Something to lighten the weight she was struggling under. "Aw, aren't you guys sweet. That is, honestly, the best offer I've ever gotten. I'm sorry, though. I've got to turn it down. I'd never hear the end of it from Howard."

"Ah, to hell with him," Dugan said. 

"Hey," Howard objected immediately. "She's the only family I've got. You're not taking her."

"Fine," Dugan grumped and Morita slumped back in his chair, looking downtrodden. Dernier was too busy pouring Angie another cup of coffee to be heartbroken. 

Peggy cleared her throat, it was time to get back to the point of the whole exercise. If they could get this settled, then she could finally turn her attention to other worrying matters. "If we're going to make this house as secure as possible, I think you're going to need to give us a more thorough tour, Howard."

With a chuckle, Darcy nodded her agreement. "Yeah, they missed the servants' stairs behind that wall on the third floor. That's how I got Dernier."

The man in question looked away from Angie and grinned at her. "Oui. I was … eh, très surpris."

"Yes, I bet you were very très surprised," Howard chortled and stood. "Alright, let's do it then."

Daniel turned up for dinner halfway through the exploration of the house and, after making a quick report that he had very little new to offer on the various mysteries surrounding them, found himself dragged along with the rest of them. He seemed baffled, and offered to wait for them in the library, but Howard just waved him along and Dugan clapped him companionably on the back, shepherding him in with the rest of their motley bunch. 

"I'm sorry," Peggy muttered to him.

"Nah, it's, uh, okay. Good to know, I guess," Daniel said as Howard pointed out a priest hole in the downstairs study. 

"So, nothing at all?"

"Nothing new. Still no word on Reilly. Waiting on a couple reports that'll be in in the morning."

"Alright. Thank you for coming. We're rather a full party, it seems."

"Sure. This'll be fun." He offered her a smile and winced as Dugan squeezed himself in the small, hidden room and Morita and Dernier laughed when he struggled to turn around.

As a consequence of the impromptu exploration, dinner was an hour later and Morita's complaints grew in volume and vulgarity until Darcy was laughing too much to continue to take anything seriously. It only got worse when she and Angie began contributing their own creative complaints to Morita's, and Jarvis added comments that the roast would grow dry, the vegetables would go too soft, and the bread would certainly be hard. Finally, to regain some sort of control over his household, Howard called a halt and ushered them all to the dining room. 

Over a roast pork loin that was perfectly succulent, crisp vegetables, soft bread, too many rich sauces and side-dishes to count, and fine wine, they had a very pleasant meal. Dugan, Morita, and Dernier told wild stories, that, Peggy noted, had grown even wilder with each telling. Even Daniel was comfortable enough to offer some of his own more amusing stories from the war, while the boys laughed along with him. 

By the time the dessert of soufflés came around, they were all feeling quite pleased with the world, and whatever mood Darcy had been in earlier had faded, leaving her cheeks flushed with happiness. Howard looked satisfied by the outcome and he raised an eyebrow at Peggy. She nodded back and offered him a warm smile for his thoughtfulness. He could be difficult, fickle, exasperating, and inconsiderate, but beneath it all, Howard was a good man who did care deeply for the people around him, even if he didn't always show it in the most conventional manner. 

"So, then Sarge knocked him flat on his butt and lit into him like blue hell," Morita said through his laughter, wrapping up the story of one of Steve's less well thought out plans. Peggy'd actually been present for this one, and it needed no exaggeration to make it more colorful. "I never saw Cap so … geez, what's the word Dugan?"

"Terrified?" Dugan suggested with a laugh of his own. "The fellow wouldn't flinch at a battalion of Nazis, but with Sarge on him like that and he looked like a little boy about to be thrashed." 

"By your goddamned self?" Morita thundered, mimicking one of Barnes's more frequent exclamations. "Boy, that always got him hotter than anything. I got one of those myself, once; can't blame Cap for the look he got. No, sir."

"Moi aussi," Dernier agreed. 

"Yep, got a couple, too. He was a tough son of a bitch, but he always had our backs," Dugan said, then held up his glass and raised his chin. "To Sarge."

They each raised their glasses with him and echoed, "To Sarge." 

"And to Cap."

"To Cap."

Darcy raised her glass on both toasts, but said not a word. And that's when it struck Peggy — Darcy had been engaged all evening, except when Sgt. Barnes came up. On those occasions she'd fall silent, her laughter trailing off, and her look going distant. While it was true she seldom asked about Steve, she would and did mention him, but in that moment Peggy realized she'd never, ever mentioned Sgt. Barnes. Not once, that Peggy could recall, and never that Howard had mentioned. Certainly Darcy'd been vastly entertained by the Bucky Barnes episode of that dreadful radio show, but never spoke his name during the whole hour, nor after it. 

As tight-lipped as Darcy got on other subjects, now that Peggy noticed it, the subject of Bucky Barnes was deafening in its utter silence, and vividly, sharply defined by its absence. And, it was becoming clear that this was one of the topics that drove her spirits down. 

Peggy was musing on how to address this when the dinner party broke up. Howard encouraged them all to join him in the game room, but Darcy pled fatigue. Taking the opportunity to finally get her alone, Peggy begged off as well, said goodnight to them all, and stalked Darcy up the stairs. 

"Darcy, I'd like to speak with you for a moment."

Turning in the corridor, Darcy smiled at her and nodded. "Sure. What's up?"

"In your room, perhaps?"

"Uh-oh," she smirked, "is it that kind of conversation?"

"Hard to say, but we may as well be comfortable."

Pursing her lips, Darcy stared at her for another moment before giving a nod and turning back to walk to her room. Peggy followed, preparing her thoughts and her arguments. 

"Goodness," she breathed out when she entered the suite. "I thought my room was extravagant."

Extravagant was perhaps even understating the room. Tall ceilings met by walls covered in rich, red fabric. Plush carpet softened their steps, and elegant Persian rugs added color and grace to the room. A large four-poster bed took up most of the far-side of the room, and a large fireplace took up the other. Stately windows lined one wall, long, heavy curtains hanging to the floor, and beyond them Peggy could see a set of french doors leading, no doubt, to the garden terrace Howard mentioned earlier. 

"Howard went a little overboard," Darcy agreed, dropping onto a gold damask chaise-longue and waving Peggy into an equally lush chair. 

"A doting grandfather."

Laughing a little at that, Darcy settled herself, draping her arm across the back of the chaise and, obviously not in the mood for empty chatter, waited for Peggy to start her conversation. 

Peggy settled herself and stared down at the silver book tray on the marble-topped coffee table between them. "We're worried about you. Howard and I."

"What about?" Darcy asked. "If this is about me going after that guy this morning, I already apologized and I swear I won't do it again."

"No, that's not it. I think that's just a symptom of the larger problem." Peggy lifted her head and met Darcy's sharp, gray eyes. "We all know you're under considerable strain. But, whatever it is you're keeping in, and there is something, you're well on the way to making yourself ill."

Darcy dropped her eyes and chewed on her lip. "I just want to go home."

"I know that. And we're working on it. But that's not it either." Peggy wanted Darcy to talk to her, she wanted to understand this mystery, but perhaps she wasn't the best person. "If you'd rather not talk to me, you can always talk to Jarvis. You know he'll keep your confidences. Or even Angie."

"I'm fine."

"You're not. It's clear as day. And it's getting worse. You can't let this fester. This cannot continue. You have to tell somebody."

"I'm really fine," Darcy said with a smile that looked almost genuine. Almost. There was a tightness to the edges of the smile that gave away the lie. 

Peggy sucked in her cheeks and considered her. Darcy was plenty gifted at deflecting questions and subjects about which she did not wish to speak. Peggy'd learned that in the weeks they'd known each other. So, a direct approach was not always the best way. But, Darcy was not so obstinate that she wouldn't give in if she felt comfortable and at ease enough, or felt that the knowledge she could offer was expedient or important, even in tense situations. 

Deciding to take another tack, and try a subject that Darcy tensed on but did not get moody about, Peggy asked, "Was Dugan right? About you and that girl in Russia?"

"I wasn't raised in a boarding school for assassins, if that's what you mean." It wasn't and Darcy knew that. Sometimes Peggy wanted to throttle her a little for all these endlessly circular conversations. She could talk for hours and never say a word. 

"But, you know of the program," Peggy pressed. 

Darcy pursed her lips and appeared genuine in her reflection on the matter. "Actually, I didn't know it was a program at all."

"Your other trainer? The assassin? She was part of it wasn't she?"

"I guess she must have been," Darcy admitted, still thinking through the program. "It makes sense."

"That's why you won't tell us her name?"

"Not really. Honest to God, I didn't know anything about that until tonight," Darcy said, giving Peggy a wide-eyed look, begging her to trust her sincerity. "It's just that some things are more distant from other things. Rico, Thor … not a big deal. I always figured she was close to sensitive subjects, but she's a lot closer than I realized."

That was interesting. Peggy cocked her head and asked, "What do you mean?"

"She mentioned things here and there, that she was taken as a girl and trained, that she was made into a weapon, stuff like that. I knew it was horrible — God, so horrible." Darcy rubbed at her forehead, pained, as they all were, by this ugliness. "But I didn't realize it was a Soviet special operations program until tonight. I didn't realize the connection to Leviathan, and I guess, maybe Hydra. This is probably one of those things I shouldn't talk to you about, but I think you know more than I do, so I guess there's no harm."

"How did she end up with your agency?"

"I don't know how she broke away from the program, or if it shut down or something; she doesn't talk about it a lot, and I don't like to push. Whatever happened, she ended up in the cold, taking dirty jobs, you know the kind." And Peggy did. The black, nasty things that happened in dark shadows and smoke-filled rooms. Jobs that left a horrible mark that could never be entirely washed away. "There was a kill order on her, and SHIELD sent Clint to take her out. He didn't, he brought her in instead — the big, sappy puppy."

"How?" She'd met two such girls, and as much as Peggy wanted to believe that everybody was redeemable, they'd been brainwashed to a monstrous degree. Feral and deadly. How on earth did you go about saving one? 

"She says she was tired," Darcy explained. "She wanted him to kill her, but he knocked her out and took her to his hotel room instead. When she woke up he talked to her. And then, and she says this is the most important part, he didn't give her a choice, but he showed her she had one, and he let her make it. If I had to guess, it was the only time she ever got to make her own choice, you know?"

"I see." Many of Darcy's stories about the man ended with her insisting Clint was crazy, and Peggy supposed he had to be to try something like that. 

"God, she couldn't have been more than twenty, if that, when Clint was sent after her," Darcy muttered as that dreadful reality hit her. After a moment she shook it off and gave Peggy a very serious look. "They're an amazing team. Like, breathtaking, truly. They are literally the best we have and it's hard to imagine anybody better." 

"Quite the pair to have training you, then."

Pursing her lips, Darcy's expression fell into an almost comical frown and she squinted a little. "I guess this totally explains why so many of her training exercises seemed insane."

"And your facility with breaking and entering," Peggy noted with a wry smile.

Darcy laughed, genuinely rather than the thin, tired ones she offered most frequently of late. "She had me practice by breaking into Clint's apartment."

"You're close to both of them."

"Clint's always been easy to hang around with, and he helped me through the kidnapped by Hydra thing, and she is … I don't know," Darcy trailed off and brushed a thumb under her lips. "I guess I admire her. Not just her skill, which is amazing, but her. Who she is, even when she says she doesn't know who she is." 

"Do you know who she is?"

Darcy snorted and shook her head. "I think that would be kind of overstating my abilities. But, I don't know, she can be a thousand other people, but with Clint, she's always the same person."

"Who are you the same person with?"

Raising an eyebrow, curious at the turn of conversation, Darcy considered it for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know. My dad, maybe? Everybody's somebody a little different depending on who they're with. You're different with Howard, than you are with Dum Dum, or Sousa, or Angie." 

"But those are variations on a theme," Peggy argued back. "I've seen you be a dozen different people all together, just in the course of a day. Lord, I saw you be three different people in the station only this morning."

"You never go undercover as something else?" Darcy asked, frustratingly blasé, as though it was normal and easy for any person to slip from one personality to a dramatically different one in the span of seconds. No wonder Angie kept asking her for tips, and Darcy never seemed to understand what, exactly, she was asking for. 

"Certainly," Peggy acknowledged. "However, you're not undercover."

"But, I am." Her lips ticked up in a wry smile. "I'm a stranger in a strange land."

"I suppose you are," Peggy muttered. Well, if Darcy was trained by a graduate of that horrible program, that certainly went a long way to explaining much about her as an agent. It was no longer surprising that she'd taken out Morita and Dernier. But, this was not the source of her melancholy, particularly as she'd only just learned about it. And Peggy believed her on that point. As far as she could tell, Darcy seldom lied outright. She preferred little truths, hidden in misdirections and banalities. 

Which brought her back to her earlier revelation — the mystery of Sgt. Barnes. Darcy opted for silence over her usual methods of deflection, which made the subject even more pronounced. Why silence? What could she fear giving away? 

It was time to get it out of her. Peggy had a notion this was the largest source of her disquiet and it really couldn't continue on. 

"It's been a long day, and I'm sure you'd like to go to bed, but I've one more question."

"Sure," Darcy agreed with an easy roll of her shoulders. 

Peggy pursed her lips. It was likely that Darcy wouldn't answer, but determination to have an answer of some sort, if only in Darcy's looks, spurred her on. "I'd never noticed it before tonight. But, it struck me quite suddenly, and I'm curious — as far as I can recall, you've never mentioned Sgt. Barnes. Why is that?"

Darcy's face went flat and blank, a mask she wore well on most days, but tonight it failed when the color drained from her cheeks, her breath stilled, and her eyes darted away from Peggy's. 

"I suppose it could be by chance," Peggy continued. She'd made a study of the other woman over their acquaintance, at first it was only to look for tells, and then to understand. She'd seen Darcy weary and ill and at the end of her rope, she'd seen her in a temper and foul mood, she'd seen her amused and smiling, but this was, without a doubt, the strongest reaction Peggy'd managed to excite. 

"Perhaps he's simply never come up, but it's so very curious. You've named every other Commando, asked after each in turn. Today you greeted Dugan and Morita and Dernier like old friends. And, it occurred to me when you were silent during the toast, that never once have I heard you mention Bucky Barnes. I can't for the life of me figure out why."

It took almost a minute of profound, aching silence, before Darcy composed herself enough to reply, "I can't answer that question."

Peggy sat forward, bracing her elbows on her knees, and stared intently at Darcy's face. "I don't understand. He died more than two years ago."

"I know. He fell off a train on the mission to capture Dr. Zola." 

"Steve was devastated."

"I can only imagine," she said, but her voice was flat as she mouthed an expected response. 

Peggy promised once that she'd leave off if Darcy told her she was getting too close to sensitive subjects, but nothing about this made sense. James Barnes was dead, he would be dead for over 70 years by Darcy's day. How is it that he was the one absolutely verboten subject? He was Steve's friend, Darcy got cautious on the subject of Steve, but, why be more wary about Barnes than Steve? Was something discovered about him in the years to come? A traitor, perhaps? 

That thought was so repellant, she shoved it away immediately. She would not condemn the man, not for one single second, even in the privacy of her own mind. And certainly not as a result of some fleeting, pernicious thought brought about by a momentary puzzle.

She looked at the woman across from her, pondering the oddity Darcy Lewis brought into their lives and reflecting on how she'd come to be with them and all she knew about their visitor. And then Peggy considered Howard's warning that nothing was really impossible. The pieces came together slowly, one by one as though passing through cold treacle, reality warring with the vast implausibility, but come together they did, and Peggy's eyes grew wide. The truth was shocking, numbing, and beyond anything she could have dreamed of expecting. On any other day it would be a mad thought, but today it made a horrible, dreadful sense. 

It was a handful of seconds before Peggy managed to speak, "My God. He's your soldier."

Darcy's jaw went rock hard, and her nostrils flared as she drew in a deep, heavy breath. Spots of color returned to her cheeks, but they arose from the heat of strong, turbulent emotion, rather than any pleasanter feelings. Agitated, she shot to her feet and walked to the french doors, her movements harsh and jerky. Gripping the curtains so tightly Peggy thought she might rip them from the rod, Darcy shoved them aside and pushed open the door. But she didn't step out, only stood there letting the crisp evening air swirl around her. 

"Darcy," Peggy said her name, not sure if she was pleading for forgiveness or explanation. 

"I can't, Peggy," Darcy said, her voice tight and rough. 

Peggy sat back and pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to marshal her thoughts, but now that the idea was there, and with every expression and movement, Darcy confirmed its truth, she couldn't stop herself playing out this new, ghastly knowledge. Darcy's partner, she said, was army, and a sniper, and a dangerous man. Bucky Barnes had been all of those. He'd done things Steve couldn't; the bloody deeds war demanded, but the deeds by which Captain America must not be stained. Certainly Steve had killed enemy soldiers, but there were worse things in war, and Barnes had done them with a frightening skill born of grim determination. 

"Lord, no wonder you get so queer about Steve. Bad enough it's me and Howard, but …" She faded off as the full implications of Darcy knowing Barnes took hold. She would have had his stories of Steve, she would know his pain and grief at losing his dearest friend, and if Darcy cared for him even half as much as it seemed, it was a pain she'd feel keenly, as well. 

"How? How did he possibly survive? We sent a team to retrieve him, but he was gone. We thought he'd perhaps been washed downstream, but there was no sign." She looked up at the rigid line of Darcy's back and closed her eyes. "They took him, didn't they? He wasn't dead and they took him. Dear God, we left him behind." A painful, sick knot of grief built up in her throat until she could barely breath past it. 

Turning slowly away from the door, as though preparing herself to face some frightful vision, Darcy stared back at her, mouth open, jaw working as she tried to say something. 

"You've been carrying this all this time." Peggy looked at her, her heart cracking at the drawn expression on the other woman's face. 

"Peggy," she choked out, finding her voice at last, "I can't tell you anything."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No."

"Darcy."

"I don't know, Peggy," she shot back, the stress of the moment fracturing her temper into barbs of agonized frustration. But the outburst was absolute confirmation and Peggy felt dizzy with it. 

"Is it like with you?" She asked, trying desperately to untangle how this was at all possible. "Did they test their weapons on him, or, perhaps, he tried to use one for escape, and he ended up in the future? Is that why he was lost for so long?" She could only barely imagine that. As clever and adaptable as she was, even Darcy got tripped up being so far out of her time. For Bucky Barnes lost to a future he couldn't understand, how much worse? Darcy had history to work off; he had nothing. 

Darcy took a deep breath and firmed up her chin, reigning in control of her emotions. "I can't talk about this," she said, her voice firm and cool. 

Peggy chewed on her lip. Darcy was so careful about the future, about her time, and this crack in all those defenses she'd built, must surely leave the woman feeling vulnerable and terrified for the life she was so desperate to return to. But, Peggy couldn't be sorry for discovering this. Not really. Darcy was unhappy, something was ripping her to bits, the black dog hung about her for all her forced smiles and laughter. And now, unfortunately, the reasons behind it became very clear. To look in the eyes of people who'd known James Barnes, and pretend he'd died; to keep that secret in her heart, and yet to miss him so awfully. 

"I'm sure I should apologize, but I won't," Peggy told her gently. "I won't say a word to Howard, I swear it, but I think it's well past time you set down this burden. Let me help you. Please, Darcy."

There was a war in Darcy's eyes as she stared back at Peggy — should she shore up those defenses and claim ignorance, or let Peggy in? 

"If I'm sorry for one thing," she continued, hoping to help Darcy to her decision, "it's that we left him behind. Tell him that from me, would you? Tell him I'm so _damned_ sorry." 

The hard expression on Darcy's face softened and she closed her eyes. "He doesn't blame anybody."

"If I'd had any idea—"

"You didn't," Darcy cut her off, opening her eyes, the cool gray still swirling with that war, but they were calmer now, and maybe, just maybe, there was something like relief passing over them. "You couldn't know."

Nodding slowly, Peggy took a deep breath of her own. Bucky Barnes survived. Good lord, she could barely wrap her mind around it. And not only did he survive, but he survived into the future, and found his way to Howard's granddaughter. There was some comfort in that, a blessing even — however he ended up in Darcy's day, whatever travails he'd endured, he'd come across the person who might understand him best. 

"How did you meet?"

"Peggy."

"I won't tell Howard," she repeated. "But, he was … he was one of us. I want to know, please."

Licking her lips, Darcy fought with herself for another few seconds, before her own war ended and she let out a long breath as she set aside the burden. 

"I can't tell you everything. I won't." She returned to sit on the chaise, but rather than the relaxed sprawl of earlier, her arms were wrapped around herself, protective and defensive even as she opened up. Sitting hunched forward on the cushion, she stared down at the floor. "I met him at a museum. I recognized him."

"Having had recent experience with a time traveler myself, I know just how puzzling that can be," Peggy told her, trying to play to Darcy's sense of humor. Unfortunately it didn't entirely work. Certainly Darcy offered up a thin smile, but she also shook her head.

"We knew he was there. Or then. Whatever," Darcy tried to explain. "I'm sorry, but some of the things that would make this all make sense are things I can't tell you."

"You do know that I'm quite alright with that, don't you? Knowing that he's alive, I just want to understand, but I trust you to know what you can and can't say."

"Thank you." She took a deep breath and continued with her tale, "We knew he was around. He'd been lost and dangerous for a while. I'm sure he was on SHIELD's radar, but I wasn't involved, so I don't know what they were doing to find him. Natasha …" Darcy cut herself off and looked vexed for a moment, before laughing at herself. "Wow, okay, so I sucked at keeping that secret, too."

"The assassin, I presume," Peggy prodded, there was no point Darcy beating herself about that slip. They'd already talked enough about her trainer's probable history that a first name was unlikely to cause any lasting harm. 

"Yeah. Natasha had an encounter with him once before. It didn't go well. That's why she's wary of him. She'd warned me about him, warned me not to look for him. And then, of course, I ran into him." 

"You simply _ran_ into him?" Peggy couldn't help but gape a bit. Darcy had the oddest luck of anybody she'd ever met. 

"I know. Of all the stupid luck. And that's all it was. Or, geez, I don't know," she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "The coincidences in my life are starting to feel less like coincidence and more like weird cosmic fate. It's creeping me out a little bit."

"Why did Natasha think you might look for him?"

Darcy looked up at last and gave Peggy a wry smile. "Come on, when I heard about him, I wasn't going to be curious?" 

Peggy chuckled and dipped her chin, acknowledging the point. Just because Darcy didn't talk about Barnes today, didn't mean she wouldn't have had questions. If her knowledge of the other Commandos was anything to go by, she'd been plenty familiar with the man. "Of course. Silly me."

"But," Darcy said, holding up one finger, forceful on the point, "I did not go looking for him. I really, really didn't. Natasha's the best agent around, honestly the best, and if she says something is no-go, I don't go."

With a frown, Peggy wondered what happened to make James Barnes such a threat, and enough of one to frighten a Leviathan-trained assassin. "He's really that dangerous?"

"Yes," she said, then met Peggy's eyes. "Not to me, though. Never to me."

"Good."

Darcy nodded and returned to her story, "So, I met him at the museum. I recognized him. And, somehow, I got him to go outside and talk to me."

"Somehow, she says," Peggy murmured with a disbelieving smile. Did Darcy truly not realize the skill with which she approached people? "You've got a way, you know."

"So everybody tells me," she said, rolling her eyes. "I honestly think it mostly came down to him wanting somebody to talk to, somebody who wasn't going to ask him to go do something terrible. All I asked him to do was go outside with me and listen while I jabbered at him. And that's where we started. On a park bench, on a muggy summer day." Darcy's eyes darkened, and when she spoke again her voice cracked, "Oh, Peggy, he was so lost, it broke my heart." 

Her throat tightened again and Peggy had to clear it a couple of times. She hadn't spent as much time with Barnes as she had the rest of the Commandos, but they'd all respected him, and Steve loved him dearly. "What did your agency do when you met? Did you call them in?"

"I didn't tell anybody, not right away. I promised I'd give him 24-hours. And I kept my word." 

"But if he was wanted," Peggy protested, "and so very dangerous—"

"I gave him my word," Darcy repeated, her heartbreak shifting to that very Stark stubbornness that sprang from the deep wells of their eternal confidence. When they're right, they're right, and damn the world if it thinks otherwise. "And it worked. He reached out to me again. Maybe it was just the timing was right or something, or maybe it was because of my relationship with the Director — he was the guy who recruited me, did I tell you that before? — well, anyway, when he asked for my assessment, and I said I thought we could bring him in without a fight, the Director agreed with me and made me his handler."

"What was your assessment?" She asked, curious about the man's state when Darcy first came across him. 

"That he was lost, that he was trying to find himself, and I didn't think he was an immediate threat if nobody threatened him back." Darcy chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. "He's had some memory problems. A lot of his past was hazy. But, he remembered some core things — he remembered Steve, he remembered Howard, I think. I'd actually told him my name was Stark, hoping that would get through to him."

"How is he now?"

"Better. It took time. I mean, he's different than he was; I don't think he'll really ever be the guy he was before everything. And his memories aren't all back and maybe they never will be; Bruce found evidence of brain damage, probably from the fall from the train. Uh, Bruce is the team doctor," she explained, wincing a bit before shaking her head. "It took me almost a year, but I got him to sit down for an exam. But, he is better, and when he doesn't try too hard to remember things, they can sort of float to the surface." She smiled, a sad smile, but there was life and humor in it. "He told me how once, when they were kids, he tied a rope around Steve's chest to keep him from going after some bully. He didn't think to check Steve's pocket for his dad's pen knife."

Speaking of people stubborn in their righteousness, Steve was that and more. A laugh broke past Peggy's pain and bewilderment as she pictured the scene. "Lord. I'm sure he tried, but Steve was far too bloody-minded to let that stop him." She let out a long breath and found some burden of her own was eased along with Darcy's. "I remember, Sgt. Barnes used to get this very particular look on his face when he wasn't very happy with Steve; he'd push out his lips a bit, and narrow his eyes, and—"

"And look at somebody like they'd just said the stupidest thing he's ever heard in his life and he's about two seconds from just sitting on them?"

"That's the one," she confirmed with a fond chuckle. "I gathered you've earned the look a time or two, have you?"

"Yes," Darcy groaned. "And a 'by your goddamned self'."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least," Peggy said with an exasperated roll of her eyes. That earned a grumpy glare from Darcy. "Oh, please, what did you do only this morning?"

"I said I was sorry," Darcy exclaimed, throwing herself back on the chaise into another sprawl. "Though, you can bet I'll never tell him about that."

And with that it seemed the storm passed. For nearly a month worrying clouds had built around them all, the blackness falling over Darcy first. It wasn't out of sight, but perhaps the sky was clearing again. If this was her heaviest burden, it was a beast of a weight, no wonder she'd staggered under it. And now it was Peggy's to share, but she couldn't help but feel it was a gift, too. There was hope in it. Hope for a future where Darcy and James Barnes stood side-by-side against Hydra and whatever other nastiness might trouble the world. Peggy would more than willingly bear this burden for that future. 

"You know," Peggy said, feeling clearer herself. "I think you still haven't said his name."

"If I say it, then this is all real and not a conversation I'm having in my head," Darcy said, her voice light and nearly chipper. 

Peggy huffed a laugh. "You've had this conversation often, then?"

"At least once a day. I've thought over and over again about what would happen if I just told you everything." Darcy frowned and let out a long breath through her nose. "It's bad enough for me to know, it didn't seem fair to do that to you, too."

"And how unfair is that to do to yourself? I don't mind sharing it."

Darcy nodded and her gaze slipped inward again, but it seemed free of that damnable bleakness. "I can't imagine what he's doing now. I mean, if Howard's right — and it's what we're hoping for — when we find the unit, and we're able to reverse-engineer whatever happened to me, then I'll go back to just after I left. He won't have time to miss me. Which, is good, because the last time I disappeared, my father caused an international incident and a lot of things blew up. It's hard getting anything out of …" she looked up at smirked at Peggy, "out of _Bucky_ , about what happened. But, I did get some parts of the story from the others, mostly how everybody kind of went on a Hydra crushing rampage. Bucky included." 

"Ah, this was when you escaped and blew up one of their bases?" Peggy asked with interest. "You promised to tell me that story but you haven't yet. Because of Sgt. Barnes?"

"Kind of? I guess," Darcy muttered, shrugging, like she wasn't entirely certain why she hadn't shared that particular adventure. "The whole thing basically sucked, and it's not really something I like to spend a lot of time remembering."

"I understand that very well," Peggy assured her.

"And I don't know if I would have made it all the way out if Bucky hadn't turned up when he did. He gets grumpy when I mention that part; he says I'd escaped already, which, yeah, okay, totally did. I got as far as the garage before I was pinned down. And sure, I got into a truck, but they were surrounding me, firing on the vehicle, and I had about fifteen seconds to start it and get out. You want an honest assessment? I'd say I had about a fifty-fifty chance of getting clear. But, Bucky turned up, and drove them back, which gave me enough time to start up the truck, then he hopped in and I bulldozed through the door and out through the fence. We were a couple miles down the road when the base blew." 

With a delighted laugh, she shook her head and looked up at the ceiling in memory. "I hadn't thought it would work. I found their self-destruct system tied to their power systems, because they're idiots. So, I killed the power and rigged it so that when they brought it back up, the self-destruct would engage. But, I gave that about a 12% chance of working. Shocked the hell out of me. I jumped out of the truck and just stood there and stared at the place exploding for a couple minutes, while Bucky groused about how I ruined his rescue. But he's always quick to tell anybody who'll listen how I got myself out." 

Raising her eyebrow, Peggy asked, "So, is there any place that can keep you out or keep you in?"

Darcy snorted. "Probably. I'm pretty good. I mean, hell, I get to practice on Stark security with crazy lunatic spies and snipers, so that gives me a pretty nice edge, you know. Still, nobody's perfect."

"No, but I'll feel better for it. With Leviathan or Hydra out there tonight, it's been nice to have a first-hand idea of the level at which you can operate."

Shrugging off the praise, looking, in fact, uncomfortable with it, Darcy observed, "I think the guys weren't taking it too seriously."

"Perhaps not entirely, but you'll only get to do that to them once," Peggy warned with a smirk. "The next time? They won't be nearly so easy." 

"Which is why I went the way I did," Darcy agreed. "If that was real, I wouldn't have infiltrated that way, and would have tried really hard not to engage them at all. That's too dangerous and I'm not Natasha. I'm better at stealth."

"I think you underestimate yourself," Peggy chastised lightly. "Every single one of them mentioned, independently mind you, how quick you were. Morita was extremely impressed."

Darcy bared her teeth in an apologetic grimace. "I felt bad about him. He hit the floor pretty hard." 

"He's got a hard head, second only to Dugan's for it's thickness; you didn't hurt him." Peggy crossed her hands over her stomach and took a moment to let herself enjoy the easier air in the room now that Darcy's secret was out. "And how do you like the Commandos?"

"They're great," Darcy enthused, smiling brightly. "Dugan is everything I ever thought he'd be. My little brother had a bowler hat when he was a kid, and he liked to be Dum Dum when we'd play Commandos in the backyard."

"And who did you play?"

"Well, Cap, duh," Darcy said with an smart-aleck smirk and snicker. 

"Ah, of course. Leading the charge." She smiled back, and let her thoughts drift to time itself and its odd twists and turns, and how it marched on from the man she'd known to a little girl playing at being him in her backyard decades later. Oh, what a precious thing. 

"You know," Peggy said after a moment, "Steve would be so happy, _so happy_ to know that Bucky survived and found Howard's granddaughter. He would be so happy to know that Bucky wasn't alone. We all loved Steve, and I know he loved us, but Bucky was his family."

Darcy nodded mutely. 

"Take care of him?" Peggy asked, or maybe she was pleading. She might not have been close to the man, but he _was_ Steve's family, and she needed the assurance that he would be cared for. 

"I will," Darcy promised. 

Peggy gave her a grateful smile and said, "You may think it's an odd sort of, what did you call it? Cosmic fate? But, fate doesn't take your choices away from you, you know. Fate is just a moment, and what you do with it is your choice. Maybe you ran into him because of who you are, because of all the choices you each made that would take you both to that museum. You knew who he was because, of course you knew; just like you know who Dugan and Morita are. Had you been anybody else, or anything other than you are, the moment may have passed by unnoticed. Fate might have been your meeting, but fate didn't make him your partner, fate didn't bring James Barnes home." 

Darcy chewed on that for a moment. "I guess."

"And the Tesseract is just an object, but its power has been ill-used, and you have — of your own free will, I assume — made a stand against those who've tried to use it. So, its power was turned on you, because that's where you chose to stand. I'm not saying you oughtn't stand, simply that the choices that led to that act were ones you made. That it brought you back here, was maybe less fate than coincidence, a moment of chance, however it was that it happened. But, once here, once you realized, you did what would only make sense for you to do, knowing what you know, and being who you are, which is to try and contact your grandfather. 

"I was there because the SSR took possession of all the Hydra technology and equipment we could. I serve in the SSR by my own choice. And when there's a security breach at a storage facility holding that Hydra technology, and then a mysterious message is sent to my friend Howard, of course I would want to be part of the investigation. There's little of fate in that. Simply one choice leading to another and another. And here we are. When it comes down to it, I suppose, we've all made certain choices that are very similar, and so, odd as it is, perhaps we shouldn't be surprised to find ourselves together now."

"That's a very good point," Darcy said, musing on Peggy's words. "I guess we're just getting all philosophical now, anyway. The situation is what it is. Clint says we can only control what _we_ do, and we can't spend too much energy worrying about things we can't do anything about. Of course, Clint careens through life crashing into almost everything. Still, I guess he's not totally wrong." Looking up she squinted at Peggy. "If it ever happens, if the opportunity ever comes up, never tell him I said that."

"We'll see," Peggy said with a teasing lift of her eyebrow. The chance of having such a conversation with Darcy's other sniper was relatively slim, but she supposed it could happen. She was definitely curious about this Clint character, but she'd just have to wait to see him for herself. Besides, he couldn't be as bad as Darcy moaned he was; she still took plenty of guidance from him, even in his absence, and his trainee was top-notch, which spoke to his skills. Plus, he'd saved then partnered himself with a Leviathan-trained assassin. Yes, she couldn't wait to meet him herself. However many decades off that might be. 

"Lord," Peggy said on a yawn. "It's been a hell of a day."

"Meh. Not so bad."

"You were shot at."

"Yeah, well. It happens," Darcy shrugged. 

"Do stop being so flippant about that," Peggy complained. "My heart stopped when word came in and I thought Howard would chew through the walls." 

"Okay, well, I am sorry you guys got worried," she said contritely, "and I'm really sorry those other agents got hurt. Mostly I'm just trying to figure it out. They were trying to grab me, weren't they?"

"Probably. What a nasty surprise that would have been for them." Peggy stood and smoothed a her skirt. "I'm going to bed. How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

Darcy thought about it for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, actually, I do feel fine. I feel better. I … thank you. I guess I did need to talk about Bucky. I miss him and it's hard to be here and know that he can't be. This is his time, not mine. But …" She licked her lips. "He's got a sister. Did you know that? She's gone by my day, but she's here now, in Brooklyn."

"Have you gone to see her?"

"And say what? 'Hi, your brother's not dead but you're never going to see him ever again?'" Darcy shook her head. "It's better that she gets the chance to grieve for him and then move on, I guess. Maybe it's not my place to make that choice for her, except, I'm the only one who can make it and it's the kindest thing I can think to do. He may as well be dead here and now anyway, and I feel pretty confident that's what Bucky will want. So, she'll remember him as he was, and she'll get to remember him as a hero." She let out a long breath and drew her legs up onto the chaise to stretch out along its length. "Still, I know she's there and sometimes I get queasy just thinking about how she lost him and how I can't tell her."

"You're right, you are the only one who can make that choice. He's your partner, I won't go around you on it," she promised Darcy. "But, perhaps Howard and I could look in on her, make sure she's doing well. He was part of the 107th, and we take care of our own, including their families when we can."

"If you like," Darcy said with a shrug. "She lives in Prospect Heights, off Washington Avenue, and works at a hair salon not too far away."

Peggy pressed her lips together, holding back an amused snort. "So, you didn't go to see her, but you tracked her down anyway."

"He'll ask," was her quiet reply. "I've got her address in a notebook at the office. I can give it to you if you want."

"Maybe this can be my small way of making up for leaving him behind in the first place."

Darcy lifted her head and gave Peggy a narrow-eyed, reproving glare. "You didn't know. And, really, he doesn't blame anybody. Besides, you said you sent a party to recover his body, so you didn't leave him, you just didn't find him."

"Well, I'll do it anyway," Peggy said with a shrug. "I don't know if anybody's looked in on her. That's shameful of us, if we haven't. I'll tell Howard all the talk tonight at dinner reminded me to check."

"Okay. Thank you."

"No. Thank _you_ , Darcy. Thank you for trusting me, for telling me this. When you need to talk about him, just come to me. No more of this letting yourself stew quietly malarky."

Darcy laughed and nodded. "Okay, I promise."

"I'm very serious. It's unnatural to have a Stark stew quietly. It's tremendously unsettling. Something's not quite right with the world when that happens." 

Rolling to her feet, still laughing, Darcy shoo'd Peggy towards the door. "Alright, geez. Next time something bugging me I'll make a huge fuss."

"Much better," Peggy said, opening the door. " _That_ I know how to deal with."

Darcy leaned against the doorjamb and smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Good night, Peggy."

"Good night, but before you go to sleep, remember why we're all jammed together in this madhouse and put your pistol under your pillow."

Pushing off the jamb, Darcy waggled her eyebrows, so very like Howard at his most obnoxious, and said, "I've got two. I never gave Dernier his back."

"And shut the doors to the balcony," Peggy called out as Darcy closed the door to her room.

"Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, Peg."

"And lock them."

The door jerked back open and Darcy stuck her head out, glaring. "I murdered four people in this house today. I can manage five."

With a haughty look, Peggy tossed her hair. "I'd love to see you try. Lock the doors."

"I _will_ , geez." Darcy slammed the door and Peggy smirked and walked off to her own, slightly less palatial quarters. 

Oh, Lord, what a day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry about that hiatus. I have no excuse. I hope this chapter was even sort of worth the wait.

With her feet up on the desk, her toes knocking against each other in a bored tattoo, Darcy leaned back in the padded-leather office chair and watched Howard buzz around the chalkboard. 

"Jarvis, no more coffee for Howard."

Jarvis looked up from his task of soldering together the box that would contain their Tesseract energy detector and gave her a thin smile. "Regretfully, Miss Lewis, he does pay my salary. I must ensure the supply continues." 

"Well, I guess if his heart explodes I get my inheritance early. Of course, I won't exist to enjoy it, but —"

Howard spun away from the board and glared at them. "Will you two quit yammering? You're distracting me."

"What more is there? The detector is ready," Darcy said patiently, waving the complex device of vacuum tubes, wiring, and plutonium-based sensors at him (the amount of plutonium was tiny — there was more background radiation in an empty room — but Darcy was duly impressed by Howard's connections in acquiring it). 

Jarvis leaned over and carefully plucked the detector from her hands and set it carefully on the table, giving her an admonishing look. He could say a lot with his face, and thinned lips and narrowed eyes practically shouted the reminder that it had taken them almost two weeks to perfect the device, so how dare she wave it so casually about. Darcy winced and offered him an apologetic shrug. 

"Look, sweetheart," Howard muttered, returning to his scribbling, "I know you're hot to get home, but I just want to —"

"Howard," she groaned his name and rubbed a hand at her forehead. 

"As you like to point out, _ad nauseam_ ," he groused back, "this is your life. I'm not taking any chances with it. We're going to find that box, but not by chasing around this whole damned city." 

Darcy dropped her head back on the chair and sighed heavily. "Okay, I know you're trying. Thank you. But, we're going to have to do some chasing around, and the sooner the better. Not just for me, but if they are building weapons or planning to, we have to stop them. Given the scale of the search, and the limited sensitivity of the detector, we can't get the altitude to really search a larger area." 

Their plan for a sweep via airplane was shot down when it became obvious from other Tesseract-based pieces Howard had, that the things just didn't put out much of an energy signature when they weren't in use. Sure, the sensor lit up like a supernova when they were active, but otherwise, they were hard to pick out of background noise.

Howard stopped writing, his hand frozen in the middle of a complicated string of numbers, and he looked over his shoulder at her. Pointing the stick of chalk at her, he said, "You've got to stop thinking like the future, and start thinking like today. We're plenty clever. So, if you can't get up high, what can you do?"

"Well, a sensor grid around the city," Darcy suggested, frowning at the thought and the scale of the network involved.

"Exactly!"

"That's going to take forever," she said, feeling irritated and petulant. This was taking too long already. They had Thompson off their backs for the moment, he had nothing on her, but Hydra/Leviathan/Whoever were still out there. Sgt. Reilly's body had never been found, and Darcy had too much experience with people who were supposed to be dead not being dead to trust that. Plus, there was a sniper lurking somewhere. And every day that passed meant leaving was going to hurt that much more. 

"Since when are you a quitter?" he asked with a scowl. "I don't like quitters. Don't be a quitter."

"I'm not a quitter," Darcy said, gritting her teeth. 

She loved Howard, but holy shit did she miss Tony. They would have talked through this, they would have bickered and argued, but they would have worked together. Howard tended to drop into his own head and forget to tell her what he was thinking, then come out with it in a rush when he was ready. Of course, she and Tony had a lifetime of working together, they knew each other's patterns. Howard was new to this. That didn't mean it wasn't annoying, though. 

They stared at each other for a moment before Howard continued, "It'll be a mobile grid. I've got some contacts. We put 'em on dairy trucks, ice trucks, mail trucks, police cars. Whoever runs a regular route or beat. They'll chase around the city for us."

"Oh." Darcy blinked. That was a good idea.

"Yeah, _oh_. Come on, sweetheart." He snapped his fingers with impatience. "I know you're frustrated, but use your head."

"Sorry," Darcy snarled, then she caught her temper and took a deep breath. "You're right. Any pings we get, we can triangulate."

"There you go. I'm just trying to figure out the math for the angles, so we can get maximum coverage."

She looked at the one device they'd spent three weeks developing and sighed. "And we need more of these."

"Probably a dozen to start."

Jarvis let a weary breath slip past his lips and kept soldering. 

"And we'll need to come up with a way to record the hits for mobile operation," Howard tossed over his shoulder as he resumed his writing. "The recorder we've been testing with is too big."

Darcy rolled her eyes and pulled a piece of graph paper towards her. A 'hit' would be an interruption in the electrical current through the sensor, as the energy from the Tesseract-based device interacted the plutonium. And that change in current could be easily recorded in any number of ways, even in 1946. Suck it, Howard. She could think like today. It could be something as simple as a paper roll and a stylus or magnetic wire. Though, they'd have to make sure whatever they used wasn't susceptible to shock from potholes or any other bumps in the road — literal or metaphorical.

"That shouldn't take too long," she assured him.

"Then get cracking. Chop chop!" Howard barked and started working again.

Darcy glanced up at Jarvis. "I admire how you haven't murdered him in all the time you've worked for him. Your restraint and composure are really amazing. Truly."

"Thank you, miss," he said, sounding amused. 

"How do you do it?" She asked, squinting at him, begging for some insight. 

"Patience. Vast, vast quantities of patience," Jarvis told her soberly. At her impressed look, he explained, "It's rather like a muscle, it grows over time with use."

"So, basically, you're the Charles Atlas of patience?"

Jarvis chuckled and continued working. "I suppose I am. I rather like that image."

Darcy snorted and started speccing out a recorder on the graph paper. "You're welcome to use it. God knows, you've earned it."

Jarvis looked up at her and pushed his welding goggles up his forehead. "He's not so awfully bad."

"Let me revise: the Hercules of patience."

"Come now, Miss Lewis," he chastised gently. 

She waved her pencil at him. "No, no, it's fine. Don't mind me. He's just … kind of like my dad and not at the same time. It's throwing me off my rhythm, you know?"

"Indeed. You miss your father. Understandable." He stood for a moment in quiet contemplation, before glancing back at her with a hesitant, unsure sort of smile. "I presume that I'll know him. Your father."

"You will be his favorite person in the world, Jarvis," she assured him with a small smile. "You and Ana. Will I get to meet her?"

"Oh, do you want to?" he asked, seeming surprised and a touch flustered. "I'm sure we can arrange that. I've not been certain how to explain you, I must admit, and haven't mentioned any of this to her. Please, I hope you won't take that as any sort of slight."

"I don't, I promise," she said, hoping to sooth his concern with an understanding pat on the arm. She always wanted to meet Ana, too, but not everything was possible even in an impossible situation. Boy, did Darcy know that. "It's all complicated. I won't be offended if we don't meet. Besides, I don't want to put you in a difficult spot with your wife." 

Jarvis raised an eyebrow at her and said, "How unlike your grandfather."

Darcy laughed. "Well, I wasn't grown in a vat. I do have other parents. Parents with manners. Come to think of it, that's probably why mom was so big on manners when I was growing up. Like, there was a very, very heavy emphasis on them. I bet she was trying to counter any innate Stark tendencies."

"Well, I'd say her endeavor was successful," he told her with an approving nod. 

"Why, thank you, Mr. Jarvis."

"I have manners," Howard interrupted them, glaring past a puppy dog pout.

"Of course you do, Howard." Darcy shook her head with a sardonic smirk. 

Howard didn't bother with manners often, and honestly, he had few to bother with. Another way in which he was both alike and unlike his son. Tony didn't bother with certain manners much, either, but when he chose to employ them he could out-manner the stodgiest stuffed-shirt or society wife. 

Different upbringings, she supposed. Different men, different influences, similar personalities, similar genius, so alike and so different. The similarities could be as jarring as the differences for Darcy; it was like being around a not quite right version of Tony. 

"I do," he insisted with a haughty glare. "I always know which fork to use."

"That is true," Jarvis confirmed.

"See?" Howard said, smirking and triumphant. 

"Alright, alright," Darcy gave in with a dry chuckle. "I'm very proud of you Howard."

"Good, you should be." He looked at her for another moment. She thought maybe there was something he wanted to say, but he just twirled his chalk through his fingers and stared. "Right. So, you two quit interrupting me." He turned back to his board. 

Darcy rolled her eyes and went back to her task of creating the recording device. 

Manners and influences. 

She peeked up at Jarvis, his welding goggles were back in place and he was focused on his own work again. There was no doubt Howard was crazy and brilliant. But, Jarvis was steadfast and patient. Both were loyal and brave (or crazy, depending on how you looked at it). In a flash she understood her own father so much better — Tony was a strange amalgam of them both. 

What Tony inherited from Howard was obvious, but from Jarvis he got the more subtle things. Tony's flashes of awkward kindness and consideration, hidden behind that Stark arrogance, were Edwin Jarvis to a T. There was also his drive to care for the people around him, even if it was somewhat stunted. Howard was splash and noise, and Tony wore that like a disguise, but underneath he kept the core of himself packed away tightly, like a certain very reserved English butler. 

Darcy felt her lips pull up into a grin and bent herself further over her paper, wanting to keep this new awareness to herself. Having grown up always wanting to meet the 'real' Jarvis, she'd always felt a degree of affection for the man, a regard acquired from her father, but now she loved him. She loved him for all that he would do for her father, for his kindness and steadiness. 

Howard was lacking as a father, that was never in dispute, but Tony hadn't been entirely left without care and guidance from a father-figure. Now she knew why her Jarvis was the way he was; he was created out of her father's admiration and adoration for this man next to her. 

This was worth the pain and all the knots into which she'd twisted herself in her unwelcome journey into the past. This moment of understanding was worth it all. 

If she hugged Jarvis now he'd probably drop the welding torch and set the desk on fire. And then Howard would yell at them again. That was something she wasn't in the mood for again, even with her genuinely moving revelation. 

After a few more moments of listening to the hiss of Jarvis's torch and the squeak of Howard's chalk, she'd had enough. Pushing back from the table, she ripped the pages she was working on from the notebook, and stood up. 

"Howard, I'm leaving."

He blinked up at her, his eyes foggy and distant, lost in the haze of his work. "What?"

"I'm going home."

"Yeah, I'm working on it," he waved a hand at the blackboard. 

"No, I mean the townhouse." She folded the pages and tucked them into her handbag — right next to Dernier's pistol. 

"What about —"

"I'll have it to you tomorrow," she said, cutting off his next demand. "Besides, I want to see if Peggy and Sousa have any updates. They were tracking down that lead in Queens."

It was a thin lead, a guy knew a guy who saw something that was maybe suspicious. He'd called a tip to the local cops, who saw some suspicious crates, that may or may not have SSR markings on them, and kicked it up to Customs who had an SSR informant looking out for anything. It meant a trip to Flushing. Peggy wasn't hopeful, but it was the best they'd had in weeks.

Jarvis put out the torch and pulled the goggles off. "I'll drive, shall I?"

"Nah, I don't want to interrupt your work."

"But you'll interrupt mine?" Howard grumbled. "And no, you're not taking a taxi or the bus. You're not going out alone." He twitched his mustache at her, stubborn and insistent.

"Why not? Is there a sniper waiting for me? Maybe shady Leviathan agents lurking to kidnap me?" She opened her eyes wide, mocking the stupidity of his statement. As if she didn't know the threats against her, as if she hadn't been as careful as she'd promised she would be after the shooting. She'd planned on calling one of the Commandos. Really, Howard?

He gave her a mulish glare. "Jarvis!"

"It's no problem at all, Miss Lewis," Jarvis assured her. "I'll feel better."

Darcy offered him a smile. "I was planning on calling Dugan. But, if you don't mind, you'll be faster. Thank you, Mr. Jarvis."

***

They left Howard to his grumbling and Jarvis drove them back across town. About ten minutes from the townhouse, he shifted in the front seat, tense and uncomfortable. His head swiveled from the side mirrors to the rearview and back again. 

"Are we being followed?" Darcy asked. 

"I believe so," he murmured. "Shall I attempt to ditch them?"

Pressing her lips together to avoid laughing at him, and the stilted use of a phrase he'd undoubtedly picked up from a gangster picture, Darcy slid forward in her seat as though to speak to him. She got a partial look at the street behind them in the rearview mirror. "Which one?"

"The green Chrysler, two cars back."

Darcy caught the edge of the car and nodded, then sat back. She had very solemnly promised Peggy that she wouldn't go after her stalkers again. She had promised Sousa she'd try to stay out of trouble. She had apologized to Howard, Angie, and Jarvis. But, damn it, she was annoyed by these jokers, and curious as hell. There had to be a way to find out _something_ without breaking any of her promises. 

"Mr. Jarvis," she said as they turned onto Park Avenue. "I'm going to ask you to do something you're not going to like."

His shoulders slumped and he gave her a baleful look in the rearview. "Miss Lewis, please," he sighed wearily. 

She grinned back at him. "Just stop at the next newsstand. I desperately need a new fashion magazine."

"You know, Mrs. Jarvis has exceptional fashion sense. Perhaps we should go visit her instead?" he said, sounding hopeful. 

Darcy hated to crush those hopes, but she sat forward and patted his shoulder, fortifying him against her decision. He wasn't comforted. 

"Just pull up near by and I'll get out for a minute. I won't be out of your sight for a second," she promised him.

"I'll get out with you," he tried again.

"Please, Mr. Jarvis," she said, wheedling. "Give me a few minutes, then you can come remind me I have an appointment or something. And I promise not to argue with you about it."

"Oh, very well," he grumbled. "Have you Miss Carter's pistol?"

"And Dernier's. He never asked for it back," she said with a short laugh. "I'll be fine, there are lots of people around, and you won't be far."

He pressed his lips together into a thin white line, everything in his body language said he was unhappy, but he did as she asked. 

Being careful to keep her word and stay where Jarvis could see her, she strolled along the racks lining the sidewalk. Autumn was on them now; it was nearing the end of October, there was more of a chill in the air than she'd expected, and she left her sweater in the car. This would only take a few minutes, she hoped, but there was a sharp reminder in Fall's bite that she'd been in the past for almost a month and a half. Six long, long weeks. 

Picking up a magazine, she thumbed through the pages, watching the street out of the corner of her eye, while she wondered about home. Were they all okay? Was her dad still sane? Would she and Howard actually manage this so that she wasn't missing long enough for them to worry? 

Her days had fallen into a rhythm that was almost too comfortable. In the mornings she went to work with Howard, in the afternoons she reviewed case files Peggy or Sousa brought. And in the evenings she might listen to the radio, play cards with the boys, or go out to the movies or shopping with Angie (and a Commando escort). 

It was all very comfortable, all very nice, all very painful, because she did have to leave. She absolutely had to get home. This was not her day, however comfortable she got. When she and Howard finally got it, then she'd leave all her new friends to time itself, and, except for Peggy, she would never see any of them again. Time travel sucked.

On the fourth magazine, a man bumped into her back. 

"Pardon me," he said. 

Darcy turned to him and smiled. Then she gave herself a mental high-five for being right. She'd believe somebody was dead when she saw their corpse. 

"Miss Lewis," Sgt. Reilly exclaimed. He made a good show of appearing genuinely surprised, but there was a watchful tension in his face. Waiting for her to wonder why he wasn't dead, probably. 

"Oh, my goodness," she exclaimed back. "I recognize you. You were at Pine Camp. Gosh, I'm so sorry, but I'm terrible with names."

"That's okay, we only met a couple times, and you were awfully sick. Sgt. Eddie Reilly, ma'am. I happy to see that you're recovered."

"Sgt. Reilly, that's right! You found my glasses for me. And you found me," she laughed and reached out to give his arm a brief touch. Make a connection, also make him think she was extremely dumb. It worked and some of the tension left his face. "I can never thank you enough for how much you helped me."

"It's no problem, ma'am," he ducked his head, trying to look bashful. Though, that might actually have been real. 

"Nonsense," she pressed. "It's so comforting knowing there are fine men like you looking out for all of us." She was maybe laying it on a little thick, but that seemed to work on a lot of the men today. Use what you've got, Natasha always said. 

He licked his lips and cast a glance down the block. She didn't see the green Chrysler, but his friends probably weren't far. Maybe around the next block. 

"Just a lucky thing, me being in the right place at the right time," he said. Fiddling with his cuffs, he glanced the other way down the block. Darcy almost rolled her eyes; holy crap was he bad at this. Was she actually going to have to help him with his nefarious skulkery? What was her life?

"How funny we should run into each other here. Are you going to the park?" she prompted. 

He took the life-line she tossed him and nodded eagerly. "Yes, ma'am. It's a nice day, and I don't get down to the city much. I've got a few days of leave, so I thought I'd visit."

"That's awfully nice." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jarvis get out of the car and start her way. She was going to have to speed this up. "Gee, I haven't been to the park in ages."

"I don't suppose …" he trailed off and looked down at his shoes. Darcy wanted to yell at him to get on with it already. For God's sake, man. "I mean, gosh, if it's not too big a bother, maybe you'd like to go for a walk? With me, I mean."

Once again, she didn't roll her eyes. How did this poor schmuck get caught up in all this? Was he somebody's cousin? Did they just feel sorry for him at the bad guy meet-ups? Did he get picked last at the evil villain dodgeball game between Hydra and Leviathan? Sure he was a bruiser, but he had no lurky spy instincts. Which meant he wasn't picked up for those skills, but most likely because he was a true believer who held a sensitive post. Yuck. 

"I'm sorry," she said, putting as much regret into her voice as she could. "I've got an appointment I simply can't miss."

"Sure, sure, I understand," he said, forcing a smile that looked a little sick. 

What would they do to him if he came back empty-handed? They had to know she knew he was AWOL. What game were they playing with him? Maybe he was only so useful, maybe he was cannon fodder. She almost felt sorry for him. Except for how he was an evil scumbag. 

Clint doubted her ability to see past the puppy dog eyes, but Clint Barton could suck it. She'd toughened up a lot over the last year. Having a spy agency fall down around you could do that to a person. And being kidnapped by Hydra. And being shot at _a lot_. Wow, it had been a crappy year. Sgt. Mini-Evil-Steve here, didn't stand a chance against her advancing cynicism. 

"How about another time?" she asked. "How long are you in town for?" She gave Jarvis what she hoped was a subtle signal to back off. Since Sgt. Reilly was nervously glancing up the street again, she needn't have bothered with subtle. 

"Until Saturday," he said, then his smile brightened. "Say, how's tomorrow morning sound? 10 o'clock? We could get a coffee. There's a shop just there." He nodded to the coffee shop two stores down. 

"That sounds nice," Darcy assured him, smiling her brightest, stupidest smile. Then waved the magazine she held. "I'd better pay for this and be on my way. It was so wonderful to see you again, Sgt. Reilly. Tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow morning, Miss Lewis," he grinned and tipped his hat at her, before turning and walking up the street. Darcy finally rolled her eyes.

She paid for her magazine, then strolled over to Jarvis who was lingering by the pulp novels. 

"Did you get what you were after, Miss Lewis?"

"I did, Mr. Jarvis," she told him, feeling very satisfied with the stop. "I've got a coffee date with Sgt. Reilly tomorrow."

Jarvis put down the detective novel he wasn't looking at and watched Sgt. Reilly's retreating back. "He looks remarkably well for a dead man."

"He does. Imagine that," she said dryly. 

Jarvis led her back to the car, but paused with his hand on the door. "You're not really going to meet him, are you?"

"Of course, I am."

"Miss Lewis," he said, sounding outraged. 

She held up a hand, her eyebrows shooting up. It was the most flustered she'd seen him. "And I'll tell Peggy, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of SSR backup."

"Ah," he said and composed himself enough to open the door for her. 

"I learned my lesson, Mr. Jarvis," she assured him as she climbed into the car. 

When he'd settled himself in the front, he glanced at her in the mirror and said, "I'm relieved to hear that. I admire your independence and drive, but you did give us all rather a nasty turn."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. Again. Jarvis could kind of bring it with the guilt. Chasing the agent a few weeks ago hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done, but the sniper hadn't really been her fault. Still, she felt badly about the whole situation, and for how much they'd all worried. Though, he'd better get used to it, because in a couple decades he'd have his hands full minding a tiny, precocious Tony. In a way she was really doing him a favor. Sort of. 

Jarvis dropped her off at the townhouse and she waved him off back to Howard. She didn't need his help to walk the twenty feet into the building. Besides, there was an SSR agent sitting on the stoop already. 

A month and a half was long enough to get used to the sight of her grandfather at the breakfast table, and Peggy Carter in the library, or Edwin Jarvis in the kitchen, but she never lost sight of _when_ she was. However, there were moments when the surreality of the situation could make her dizzy. Daniel Sousa on the front stoop was enough to do it today. She'd never known him, but, of course, she knew of him. Sometimes it was overwhelming seeing all these people, knowing what was ahead of them, in the lives they hadn't even lived yet. 

Shaking off the feeling, Darcy approached him with a bright smile. She might know some things, but he still had choices to make, still his own path to walk, they all did, and in the grand scheme of things her foreknowledge didn't mean a lot. The next seven decades might be written for her, but they were still wide open for everybody else. 

"Did they kick you out, Agent Sousa? Or have you had enough of the Howling Commandos for a lifetime?"

He gave her a crooked smile and pushed himself to his feet, teetering for a moment until he got his crutch situated on the step. "Nobody's home. Guess they all had better things to do than wait for me to turn up."

"Huh, don't know where they were off to today." She passed him on the steps and unlocked the outer doors. "Guess we'll find out when we read about it in the newspapers tomorrow. Or when they need somebody to bail them out."

He laughed and followed her into the townhouse. "If you want help busting them out of the pokey, let me know."

"Count on it." She stepped into the entry hall and disabled the security system that was only half enabled anyway, because Dugan never remembered all the steps and set it off more often than he armed it. 

The Commandos came and went in a rotating system of their own devising, depending on who had leave when, who could cash in favors, who could come up with the best excuse to be away from the 107th. Howard pulled a few strings of his own and got Dugan temporarily reassigned to a local recruiting office. Dum Dum would go in for a couple hours a day, fill promising young men full of stories of adventure and duty, then he and whoever was on rotation would head out into the city following their own leads on Hydra and Leviathan. 

So far none of them had been arrested, despite a bar fight or two, and they had uncovered a small Hydra cell in the Bronx. Good for getting the bad guys off the streets, but bad because they were low-level goons; leftovers from Hydra's big fall in '45, and unrelated to Darcy's current problem. 

Dugan took over a small sitting room as his camp HQ — his words — and had the walls covered in maps, schedules, and Morita's profane jokes. Jones, Pinkerton, and Falsworth were currently bunking in the house. Morita would be back the next week with Sawyer and Dernier. If they needed more men for anything, all the boys were ready to come running when Dugan called. And Howard was ready to defend them at their court-martials. 

Add in Angie, and Camp Stark was pretty fun, honestly. Peggy got a look sometimes that said she was very seriously considering murder. Or at least that she'd like to consider it, even if she couldn't quite get herself to _really_ think it. 

"No Peggy?" Darcy asked as she led Sousa back to the kitchen. 

"Nah, she got caught up in another case Thompson said he wanted her on."

"Oh. Is he still pissed about me?" Darcy winced at the thought that she'd made life more difficult than it had to be for Peggy, and headed for the percolator. 

She'd finally got the hang of making actually drinkable coffee. After suffering through a few cups of Darcy's coffee, Angie finally had enough of being polite to their houseguest and walked Darcy through the secrets of the percolator. 

"Probably," Sousa said with a shrug, leaning his crutch against a table and dropping his briefcase onto the top, then he took a seat with a relieved sigh. "Don't take it wrong. Mostly, I think Jack's in over his head a little, and doesn't know how to deal with it. So, he's tugging on Peggy a lot. Frankly, she's the best agent we've got. That drives him nuts, but he needs her, too. Peggy can handle it." 

Darcy plugged in the percolator and turned to lean against the counter while the coffee brewed. She looked at Sousa and he looked back at her. Then he looked away and opened the briefcase, pulling out some files and shuffling through them. She smirked.

He was cute, and his little crush on Peggy was more than adorable. She wondered when it would turn to more than a crush. Or had it already? Darcy was pretty sure Peggy was currently oblivious. That had to sting, at least a little bit. It was too damned tempting to tell him to be patient.

"So, how was Flushing?" she asked, distracting herself from imprudently fucking with people's lives.

"Nothing there. The cops saw crates for sure, but the place was empty when we got there. Nothing says it was our guys, anyway." He rubbed absently at his thigh, the one right above his prosthetic. 

Man, that had to hurt to be on that all day. Darcy considered badgering Howard into making a new one for him. But, the tactful, Lewis side of her said that really wasn't her place. If Sousa wanted a new leg, he'd ask. Or Howard would clue in — small chance, but it could happen — and do it on his own. Or Peggy could badger Howard _and_ Sousa. Yeah, better leave it to her. 

"What I wouldn't give for one good lead," Sousa said and tossed her that crooked smile again. 

"It's your lucky day, Agent Sousa," she replied, firing a finger gun at him. "I've got one for you."

He sat up straighter, leaning towards her, almost as eager for a break as she was. "No kidding?"

"Sgt. Reilly is still very much alive and kicking and is, possibly, one of the worst spies I've ever seen in my life," she announced. 

"Worse than Judy?" he asked with a sad smile and shake of his head. 

Judy was a switchboard operator, who, as soon as it got out that there was a suspected mole in the SSR office, had panicked then cracked like an egg. Somebody, she swore she didn't know who he was, came to her house one night and threatened her, then offered her money to listen and pass on any information about Darcy. Judy had coordinated the transport for Thompson's plan to pick up Darcy — the pickup the sniper was in place for. 

Rose Roberts, Judy's supervisor, was spitting mad and half determined to shake down every agent that walked past her. Peggy talked her out of that, but it was a safe bet that there'd be no more shenanigans at the switchboard. And probably a lot of agents shuffling nervously past Miss Roberts every day. It was a good deterrent. 

"At least as bad as Judy," Darcy assured him. "He _ran_ into me at a newsstand a little bit ago. After Jarvis spotted a tail on us."

Sousa raised an eyebrow and asked wearily, "You just had to stop at the newsstand?"

"Jarvis was right there," she said emphatically. "Also, I forgot my magazine in the car. Damnit."

"Miss Lewis," he groaned. 

She got back to the point, "I've got a coffee date with the not-dead Sergeant tomorrow morning at ten." 

He stared at her for a moment and sat back in his chair, looking a little stunned. "Really?"

"Really. Like, I said, he's terrible. He tried to get me to go for a walk with him. Sucker."

"You know it's a trap, right?"

She gave him a pouting, hurt look. "Agent Sousa, come on."

"Right, sorry, sorry." Rubbing at his forehead, he thought for a minute. "I'd love to have more time to secure the location, but this is the best we've had since you turned up. Alright, I'll call Peggy. I'm not sure who Jack will spare for this, but I'm sure we can get a few men on it."

"Don't forget the Commandos," she reminded him. "You've got Dugan, Jones, Falsworth, and Pinkerton."

"That's six with me and Peggy, and then maybe a couple other guys. That'll work."

"Seven," Darcy corrected with a sniff. "I may not be an SSR agent, but I am an agent."

"Yeah, but you're the bait," he pointed out with a laugh. "So, six for backup. Plus, whoever else."

"Fine." The coffee was done and she poured them both mugs and walked over to sit with him at the table.

"For what it's worth," she said, "I think he's pretty low-level. They sent him out to me as a feeler. To see what I'd do and how I'd react to him not being dead. I played stupid. He bought it, but I'm sure they didn't. I mean, maybe I'm giving them too much credit, but they already took a shot at me, and I didn't bolt or go into hiding, really." 

"So, you think they're willing to give him up," Sousa said, nodding as he thought it through. "He's going to want to try and take you somewhere. So, he'll have to have his own backup nearby." 

"Probably," Darcy agreed as she doctored her coffee. 

"Worse comes to worse, we only get him, but that's better than nothing."

"I guess," she said and took a sip of her coffee. "He was nervous, too. Maybe they've got something on him."

Sousa lowered his head slightly, and gave her a severe look from under his brow. "Don't go all soft on him."

"Please, I'm not that easy," she snorted. "I don't go for lying scumbags, anyway. I'm just trying to figure out why they used him." 

"Could be his last chance with them. Something happened at his apartment, for sure; might have been a heck of a beat down," he mused. "I mean, you turning up in the first place outed their operation at Pine Camp. That could've fouled up more than we know. Then Stark got you out from under Reilly's watch. Or, heck, maybe it's as simple as they thought he'd be a familiar face who could approach you without you shooting him. Maybe they do think you're that dumb."

Darcy laughed. "I excel at playing stupid."

"But, you're not," he said, with a firm nod and a smile. Yeah, he was cute. 

"Peggy's a lucky lady," Darcy commented mildly.

Sousa choked on his coffee. "What?"

"That she's got such a good partner," she told him with an easy smile. So, maybe she'd imprudently fuck with them a little bit. Just a tiny bit. The universe owed her this much. "My boss says a solid partnership is the best asset you can have in this business. It's tough being a woman in this job, but Peggy's lucky she's got a friend who can see her skills and who respects her."

Wiping the coffee off the corners of his mouth, Sousa glanced away from her and nodded. "Yeah, well, she's great. At her job. Wouldn't count her out of anything."

"Me neither," Darcy agreed. Then deciding she'd had enough fun, she let him off the hook, "I don't know what I'd do without both of you. I mean, Howard's a genius and all, and we'll figure out the mystery box side of things, but going up against Leviathan or Hydra — whoever this is — that's something else. I'm glad I don't have to do it alone."

He looked back at her, his face very serious. "You're definitely not alone. We'll get this licked, then you can go home." He pushed a small stack of files over to her. "Give these a look, will you? Same deal as always; see if anything says Hydra or Leviathan to you. And, if you don't mind, I'll use the study and call Peg."

"Will do," she said, pulling the files over to herself, and opening the first. "And, yeah, help yourself to the study. Howard was lost in math, who knows when he'll find his way back."

***

Late in the evening, Dugan called a briefing in his HQ. Thompson was willing to part with five additional agents, which was more than Darcy expected, but Sousa told her that Jack might be a jerk, and he might be sore about Darcy slipping his grasp, but he did always do his job. This was a legitimate case, with an AWOL soldier and agents shot and all. Jack wanted the shooter as much as anybody. She decided to take his word for it and let Thompson fall off her list of worries. 

So, they all crammed themselves into the sitting room — seven agents, four commandos, Howard, Jarvis, and her. Angie'd offered to play waitress, but Peggy put her foot down. The bad guys knew who was in this house, Angie included. 

Dugan pulled out his maps, marked locations, and he and Peggy marshaled their forces. Jones and Pinkerton would be on either end of the block, watching the street. Peggy and Sousa would be out of sight, monitoring in a delivery van with Howard. Falsworth, and two of the agents would be inside the coffee shop before Darcy arrived. The other three agents would be staged across the street. Jarvis and Dugan would drop her off, then drive two blocks away and double back, parking down the street. They'd be the chase car, if necessary. The police were informed of the operation; they'd be the final, outer ring of watchful eyes, units waiting a couple blocks away in each direction. 

When she met with Sgt. Reilly, she'd try to get him to talk, while the men on the street looked for Reilly's evil buddies. If they caught sight of them, they'd move on his backup. If they didn't, and Sgt. Reilly tried to get her to go for that walk with him, then Jones and Pinkerton would follow immediately, with the others falling in after a couple minutes. If he tried to get her to a car, she'd go with him only to the end of the block. She was not — both Peggy and Howard said emphatically — to get in. If somebody tried to force her, she was to shoot them. They'd get Reilly no matter what. Probably. He was basically surrounded, so his odds weren't good. 

Howard had a handful of short-burst, radio-transmitted trackers, one of which Darcy would wear at all times, along with a small, hidden radio. Depending on how the situation played, they might decide, on the fly, to place a tracker on an enemy agent or their vehicle and use it to trace them back to their little hole. He'd also passed out three shotgun-sized, non-lethal stun guns (not quite as trick as Darcy's favorite taser, but way high-tech for 1946), for taking any operatives alive if they could. 

Over all, it was a solid plan, lots of backup, lots of coverage. The operation was as tight as they could make it in the small window they had. Of course, there was the known unknown, too — the bad guys had to know their trap was a trap, too. Who knew what they were planning, or where they'd have their men staged. 

After the briefing broke up, all agreeing to meet at six the next morning, Jones pulled her aside. 

"You up for this?" his asked, his eyes filled with concern. 

She liked Gabe Jones, maybe even more than she liked the others. He was sweet and charming, but, it wasn't that. She'd known his grandson. Thinking of Trip still brought a little twist of pain. He was gone, and he wasn't even born yet. But, grandfather and grandson would get their time together, and somehow that was a comforting thought. So, maybe she was softer with Gabe. There was almost a sort of familial connection. Trip had been a friend, and getting to know his grandfather was special. Painful, maybe, but special. 

"I am. We need this break," she told him. "I've got a feeling something else is going on, though, so keep an eye out."

"You better believe it," he said, his jaw firming up. "Nobody's laying a hand on you on our watch."

"See?" She gave him a friendly thump on the arm. "So what do I have to worry about? I've got the 107th at my back."

He chuckled, a little disbelieving, "You're crazy as your cousin, that's for sure."

She laughed. "Not crazy, just confident."

And Darcy was confident. She did feel like there was something off about them sending Reilly, but since she'd be surrounded by friends and friendly agents, she really wasn't worried at all. She'd be sharp, she'd keep her eyes open, she'd be ready, but she had solid backup. That was new. Usually it was just her. Or just her and Bucky. Adequate backup was a novelty. 

Having any progress on this situation was such a profound relief that she slept soundly for the first time in weeks. She woke refreshed and ready to get a damn move on already. 

***

At two minutes past ten, Darcy strolled into the coffee shop. Falsworth was at a table by the front windows having an animated conversation with one of the agents about cricket. The other agent was leaning against the counter, chatting up a waitress. Sgt. Reilly had picked a booth on the far-side of the room, against the wall. 

Darcy smiled and gave him a little wave. He stood up and smiled back, but once again it looked tense. 

"Miss Lewis, good morning."

"Good morning, Sgt. Reilly. It's an awfully nice morning, isn't it?" she asked, taking her seat. 

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, and sat again as well. "I hope you don't mind, but I ordered us some coffee and pastries already."

"I don't mind at all. And, gosh, you should call me Darcy. We're friends now, after all."

"I think you ought to call me, Eddie, then," he said with forced joviality. 

"Eddie, it is," she said with a cheerful chirp. 

When the waitress brought their coffee and pastries, they took a moment to chat idly about the city and the weather, and Darcy thought about how she wanted to play this. Peggy wanted her to go for the throat, play along for a few minutes, then let him know he was caught, and see if he'd turn. Being an awful spy, who was already nervous, he'd probably crack easily. Sousa thought she ought to play along, butter him up and let him tip his own hand, which he would, being such an awful spy. So, flip a coin, basically. 

Darcy was definitely more from the 'go for the throat' school of spycraft, but he was tense enough that she thought Sousa had a pretty good point, too. 

"So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Eddie," she said as she nibbled on the corner of a danish. 

"Oh, nothing much to tell," he said, shrugging and glancing away from her, then pasting the smile back on his face. "I've been in the army for two years. Got deployed to Germany for a bit at the end of the war."

Leaning towards him, her danish in one hand, she opened her eyes wide. "Gosh, did you see any action?"

"Nah, I missed out," he chuckled a little, but it sounded hollow. "Mostly just watching and processing prisoners, you know. Helping keep the peace."

"Well, that's very important, too. We don't want another war."

"No, ma'am. I mean, Darcy." He flashed her a bashful smile and she wanted to put her head in her hands. But, of course, this was the worst part of Hydra — they were people you knew, people you liked, people who were real and not dripping venom from wicked fangs. They were people you trained with who then turned around and aimed a gun at your head. 

For a few more minutes he talked to her about things she already knew. That he participated in his church's pot-luck dinners with enthusiasm, that he was a volunteer shooting instructor at a high school, that he'd grown up near Cincinnati, and that he loved dogs, and that his world revolved around his mom. 

"Gosh, you let me talk about myself, but I don't know much about you," he said when he realized he may have said too much about himself. He was so bad at this Darcy wanted to pat him on the head and send him off home. "Did the police ever find who kidnapped you? I mean, gee, I hope I didn't bring up a bad memory. I just hope you're okay."

"It's alright," she assured him. "I feel much better, and my cousin's been wonderful about making sure I'm safe. He always has his driver take me everywhere now. I had a heck of a time getting him to go off to take our friend to work." 

She decided to try a combination of Peggy and Sousa's approaches. "Gosh, don't you just wish the world would settle down for a little while? You think we'd get a chance to breathe for a bit after the war, huh? But now we've got the Russians and Chinese. What next?" Leaning towards him, she dropped her voice to a whisper, "Just between us, we think maybe it was the communists trying to grab me for secrets. Too bad I don't know any. That's probably why they left me at the camp, I wasn't any good to them, you know?" 

He licked his lips, and his nervousness spiked. "That must be pretty frightening for you. I'm glad you're okay." Taking a sip of his coffee, he bowed his head and stared at the table for a moment. "You're right, though. It'd be nice to have a bit of order in the world, wouldn't it?"

"I guess we're doing the best we can," she said, but put some doubt in her voice. Come on Eddie, go for the evil villain 'we'll save the world from itself' monologue. 

He didn't take the bait and just sipped at his coffee. Falsworth caught her eye and tapped at his wrist. He had a radio to the van, and no doubt somebody was barking at him to get her to move things along. Peggy could cool her jets. 

Darcy was feeling like she was getting a read on the Sergeant, she just needed a few more minutes. Hydra were just like everybody else, and a common theme in what they'd found about him, and what he'd said about himself, was his devotion to his mother. He sent her money, he called her often, he kept in close touch. Yeah, even evil scumbags had moms. 

"What does your mom think of you being in the army?" she asked. "She must miss you."

"We talk at least once a week," he said, still focused on his coffee. "My dad died in a work accident when I was three. And since my brother died at Guadalcanal, it's just been me and ma. She doesn't like me so far away, but I've got a couple more years in my hitch. She, uh, she …" his voice trailed off and he set his coffee cup down and bit his lip. 

Darcy gave him another nudge, "She sounds like a nice lady. Do you get a chance to visit?"

"I made a mistake," he muttered. "I made a mistake, you see?"

She wanted to pump her fist in victory, but she kept her voice even and said, "Joining up? No, surely not. Your mom must be terribly proud of you."

"No, no, no," he shook his head, and shifted in his seat, growing agitated. "I wasn't supposed … I mean …"

"You weren't supposed to do what?" She sat back in her chair, leaning away from him subtly, and checking that her purse was clear. She'd practiced, and she could get Dernier's pistol out in a heartbeat. Peggy's pistol was in her pocket, but it was harder to get that out while sitting down. 

"I was …" He looked up at her with baleful eyes. "Lt. Gordon wasn't supposed to contact the SSR."

"Why ever not?"

And then sweet, bashful evil-mini-Steve, grew his fangs. He leaned across the table and grabbed her arm. "I was supposed to take you to my people. But, that bastard Stark turned up."

"Sgt. Reilly," she exclaimed. "You're hurting me. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," he hissed. His face turned red, his jaw quivered, and his voice broke, "You're toying with me. You're just like them. We want to make the world better. Don't you _understand_? Why don't _any of you_ understand?"

"Who?" She winced as his grip tightened. 

"Hydra. Rogers and his whore fucked up everything. I know she's around somewhere."

Darcy twisted her arm up and away from him, breaking his grip. She lunged for her purse, but he caught her by the back of her shirt and yanked her back. The table shuddered between them, the cups and plates rattling, and he pulled his own pistol, screwing it into her back. 

"Stand up, and don't move quick," he growled. "I've got one chance and I'm gonna fix this."

Darcy slid out of the booth and he moved the gun to point at her ribs. The waitress saw the gun and screamed before running behind the counter. That was a signal for Falsworth and the other agents to stand up. Sgt. Reilly waved his gun at them each in turn.

"Nobody get smart," he shouted, his eyes turning feverish with madness. "You stay back or I'll kill her." He wrapped his thick arm across Darcy's neck and pulled her forward as he moved them towards the door. Darcy went easily, she didn't fight him, not yet. They needed to see if he had his own backup. Plus, he seemed like he'd maybe snapped a little bit, and that was a recipe for a hair trigger. Darcy didn't want a bullet in the ribs, thanks. 

Reilly shoved them out the front doors, and hustled her down the street. People scattered. 

"You don't have to do this, Eddie," she choked out, trying to breath past his arm around her throat. 

"Yes, I do. I messed up. I got to fix it. I bring you to them, and it'll be better. You just do as I say until we get to Queens, you understand? Then they're gonna talk to you and you're gonna do what they want," he said said his voice tense, but almost pleading. He was trying, and failing, to sound like a reasonable person, like what he was suggesting wasn't insane. "This will all be better."

"We can help you, Eddie," she tried again.

"No, you can't," he ground out, reasonable leaving his tone in favor of panicked madness again. "You and your cousin want to play your games and make your money and the world's going to hell. We can make it better," he insisted. "We will make it better."

"How is this making anything better?"

"Shut up," he hissed in her ear. "They're gonna make it all right. And I'm gonna help. We'll heal this world. You'll see. You'll see and you'll thank us." He laughed, squeezing his arm tighter until she gasped. He shoved her towards a car, reaching around her to pull open the door. "They don't need him, they've got me. I'm gonna show —" 

Well, this was as far as she promised she'd go. With all the force she could muster, Darcy brought her heel down on his foot. He yelped and his arm tightened even more until she saw black spots. She had a couple seconds until she lost consciousness. Channeling her inner-Natasha — who was in no way as nimble and badass as the real thing, but who wasn't all that shabby — she grabbed his arm with both hands, lifted herself to brace her feet against the car, and shoved up and backwards. Reilly stumbled and his arm went slack as he tried to catch his balance. 

Dropping down out of his grasp, she coughed and dropped to one side, kicking out with one leg, catching him on the side of his knee. He stumbled still more, but he had enough training to bring the gun up again. Darcy lurched to her knees and awkwardly dove forward to grab his wrist in her left hand and slide her other arm under his. She pushed his wrist away from her and hooked her right arm around his elbow then yanked as hard as she could, bending the joint the wrong way. It crunched and popped audibly; he howled in agony. 

Swinging out, blind with pain, he struck her across the face with a big, meaty fist, and she fell back, her teeth snapping together hard enough to send a second shock through her skull. Dimly, she could hear shouts and running feet. Somebody grabbed her under the arm, and she turned to fight until she realized it was Gabe. He pulled her away from Reilly, who was cursing and spitting while two agents tried to subdue him. Despite being down an arm, he fought them off long enough to dive into the car and start it up. 

Gabe got her back to her feet and backed them away even further, his arm around her shoulders as he led her down the block. Her part was over, even if it hadn't gone quite how she hoped. 

She heard the crack of a gun firing and turned her head to see one of the agents shooting out one of the car's tires. The car lurched forward, then a bright, orange light lit up the interior of the vehicle, and the explosion rocked the block. Gabe threw her against a wall, sheltering her with his body, and the two agents were blown backwards. 

"You okay?" Gabe asked, leaning back to look at her. 

Darcy rubbed at her rapidly swelling cheekbone and nodded. "Yeah, I don't think anything's broken." She peered around his shoulder and let out a sigh of relief when she saw the agents picking themselves up. If slowly. Both appeared to be injured but not horribly. 

"I didn't expect that at all," she said, staring at the black smoke and car-shaped hunk flaming metal in middle of the street. 

Gabe followed her gaze and nodded with a grim frown. "Guess we lost our lead."

"He said he was taking me to Queens. So, that's something. At least that narrows it down to a borough."

Peggy and Howard reached her at a run, and Howard pulled her away from Gabe, into a tight embrace. Peggy gave her a quick, but thorough look over, then nodded and went to check on the agents. 

"You okay, sweetheart?" Howard's face was creased in tight lines of concern, fear, and anger.

"Yeah, I think so. My throat's going to be sore for a few days, and I'm going to have a hell of a shiner." She poked again at her puffy cheek, but she was still sure it was just a nasty bruise. And she had a headache, so maybe a mild concussion from the blow. Good thing he mostly missed; she didn't want to think about what it would have been like to take a solid punch from Eddie Reilly. 

Howard grunted, and the lines tightened, his lips disappearing entirely under his mustache. 

Gabe gave her a pat on the back. "I wasn't sure I believed Dum Dum when he said how you took out Morita and Dernier. Guess, I ought to have. That was some good moves against that guy. Dang. You sure you don't wanna be a Commando?"

She laughed a little, which made her head throb. "I've enjoyed my time as an honorary Commando, but I'm ready for this all to be over."

"I get that," he said. "I'm gonna go help Peg."

"Yeah, you're all done here, Darcy," Howard said. "Let's get you home. Put something cold on that bruise. Jarvis is going to want to fuss, you know how he is. And I'll give my doctor a call."

"I don't need a—"

"I will give my doctor a call, and you're gonna put up with it." He tugged her into his side and started them both down the street towards Jarvis. 

"Okay," she said. Agreement was easier than arguing, right now. She wasn't sure how she felt about everything that happened. She needed time to process, and a couple aspirin would be amazing, too. Time travel, in addition to sucking, was also a literal headache. "You got the thing about Queens?"

"Heard it all," Howard assured her. "Well get those sensors deployed around the borough. Sousa's got a call into Ohio to get a lead on Reilly's mom, too. She might be in danger, or, heck, she might be in on it, too."

"Good." She let out a long breath. "Really didn't expect that," she said again.

"Guess he blew his last chance," Howard said philosophically. Then he caught his word choice and his mustache quirked up in amusement. "So to speak. But, Jones was right, you were great. Of course, I knew you were, already."

She leaned her head against his shoulder and tried to get her adrenaline-strained muscles to relax. "Thanks, Howard."

Jarvis was hovering by the car, and when Darcy was in range he took three quick steps up to her and scanned her face. "You'll have a black eye by dinner," he said by way of greeting, but his voice was entirely relieved. 

"Makes me look tough," she told him. 

"It does add to your dangerous allure," he agreed, then stepped back and opened the car door for her. "I'm glad you're well, Miss Lewis."

"Me, too, Mr. Jarvis."

"I'm driving," Howard announced. "We've got work to do."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little late with it, but the Run 'Verse is three-years old! I can't believe it. I can't ever thank you all enough for reading along and for all your encouragement over the past three years. You guys are the best.

"A hit! A hit!" Darcy crowed and waved a sheet of paper at Howard and Jarvis.

"Which one?" Howard demanded snatching up a pencil and scrambling over to the map of Queens on the wall.

"17, two hours into its route, at 11 miles total, heading west."

"Got it," Howard muttered and plotted the rough area of the location. They didn't have time to work out much more than a fast and dirty accelerometer that could really only record distance and average speed. And it wasn't like they could use GPS. But, Darcy would bite her tongue off before she mentioned their limitations; Howard's scathing comments had been enough one time through, she didn't want a repeat. 

"Where was that one?" she asked.

Jarvis shuffled through the list of their mobile network. "Milk truck in Flushing."

She pumped her fist and hissed, "Got you, assholes!" 

"Miss Lewis, please," Jarvis sighed, giving her a severe look. 

"Sorry, Mr. Jarvis." She tossed aside the roll of paper with the hit, and reached for the next one. There were another dozen to go through, but progress felt so damned good that what began as a daunting task was now an exciting endeavor. _Endeavor_ , man she'd been spending way too much time with Jarvis. 

"We can redeploy for tomorrow to concentrate in that area," she suggested. 

"Jarvis!" Howard bark immediately. 

"On it, sir." Jarvis popped up from his seat and swiftly crossed the room to the phone. 

"You know," Howard said casually. Darcy braced herself; she'd been around him long enough to realize that wasn't a good tone coming from him. It was his 'up to something' tone. "It's your birthday next week."

Darcy blinked and thought about it. That was weird. In linear time, if she hadn't fallen through a magic portal to the past, she'd still be a few months away. "Huh. I guess it is. Though, since I haven't been born yet, is it really a birthday?"

Howard rolled his eyes. "You're here now, that's the day you were born on, it's your birthday. So … what do you want to do?"

"Burn Hydra to the ground," she said. She really didn't even have to think about it.

Howard stepped away from the map and strolled over to lean his hip against the table next to her. "Another day or two and we'll get a line on the box. Then give Peggy a couple days to case the place. She's all cautious like that, you know. Then we'll move and bam, problem solved."

Wow. That was … _optimistic_. "Nothing says things will go that well," she said, warning him. "Murphy's lurking, I can feel him."

Howard smirked and pointed a finger at her face. "Maybe he's lurking to screw up Hydra, did you think of that, huh?"

She laughed and batted his finger away. Maybe she could _try_ for a smidgen of optimism. She did have Howard Stark and Peggy Carter on her side, after all. "Okay, okay. I know we're pretty damned good; we'll get them."

"There you go," he said, satisfied with her capitulation to his more positive outlook. "That'll free up your plans. So, what do you want for your birthday?"

She returned his smirk and leaned back in her chair. "Matches."

Throwing his head back, Howard hooted with laughter. "A granddaughter after my own heart."

Her smile fell and she looked down at the rolls of paper in front of her. "I can't take anything back with me, Howard."

"I know that," he huffed. "But, I can give you a present, and I will give you a present. You can get it back when you get home." 

"You don't have to get me anything," she protested. "Assuming you and dad don't finally follow through on your threats to disinherit me, someday I'll totally inherit a company and a spy agency. That's way more than enough. You should see my trust fund, too." She let out a low whistle. "I'm spoiled rotten already."

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "I'm getting you a present. Never mind, I'll find something." He sat down next to her and pulled over a pile of paper, unrolling one scroll. "So, if you don't want to talk about your birthday, let's talk about SHIELD."

Well, that wasn't a dangerous subject. With a wary glance his way, Darcy said carefully, "We have talked about SHIELD."

"We've talked about general things. I want details," he demanded, slapping his hand on the table. "Structure, organization. If I'm going to put together a proposal, I need to start thinking about that. It won't be long before the War Department goes the way of the Dodo."

Darcy huffed. "Well, you did it once before with the SSR. You don't need me to tell you."

"And look how that turned out," he grumbled. "I'd like some insight."

"Gee, too bad I didn't bring the handbook with me. Could have been useful, too. It's less a book, more a blunt instrument." She mimed swinging a phonebook sized object through the air.

Howard's eyebrows shot up and he leaned towards her. "Did you read it?"

"The whole thing, backwards and forwards," she moaned. "My SO liked to pop quiz me on it, and boy I'd better have the answer or I'd be tortured in the gym for an extra hour."

"Hey," he said, snapping his fingers. "You could write it down for me. Then you'd be the one who wrote your own handbook."

"Ugh," Darcy groaned and braced her forehead on her hand. "Paradox! Paradox!"

Howard cackled. "Ah, get over it, sweetheart. Though," he murmured and started jotting something down on a scrap of paper, "now that I'm thinking of it, it's good time to consider that regulation about relationships between partners."

"You're an ass," Darcy said with a laugh. "But, I'll stop teasing you about him; I promise he _is_ just my partner," she told him. 

Her relationship with Bucky wasn't one she could consider right now. And God only knew what it would be when she got back. Right now, not thinking about it was the best she could do. Though, Peggy knowing took a lot of the pressure off. Maybe she couldn't tell the other agent the whole story, but it was nice to be able to talk more openly with _somebody_. And she didn't have to worry she'd slip about Steve — anything she said about him, she could attribute to Bucky. 

"Fine," Howard grumbled, but kept scrawling until he was satisfied, ignoring her little squawk of protest and fending off her attempt to steal the paper from him. When he'd finished, he smirked at her, folded the page, and tucked it into his breast pocket. "Okay, so you've been around long enough, talked to Peggy and Sousa enough, you've got an idea about the SSR. Since you're getting awfully picky about the future, even though we've had this conversation about how you can't change what already is and —"

"Ugh," Darcy grunted again and stuck her tongue out. Yes, they'd had this conversation. They'd had this conversation like fifty times. She was tired of having this conversation. He could be as certain as he wanted about the inviolability of the timeline, but it was still her future, her life, and until she got home and could see for herself, this was all super, super theoretical. And, anyway, she'd seen _Back to the Future_ like twenty times. So sue her for being cautious. 

He dismissed her petulance and continued, "How's about you give me a thumbnail of the differences — for and against?"

Darcy thought about it for a minute. Alright, so, fine, Howard insisted she couldn't change anything, because the future was what it was because of her presence in the past already. So, basically, she'd already changed things and she'd never know what, because she knew the world post those changes. Howard seemed to think that should be comforting — why, she could do whatever she wanted, the consequences had already played out — but mostly it made her feel twitchy and weird, like she'd had way too much caffeine. Also, it fed into that sense of being a piece on the board of whatever game weird cosmic fate was playing. She didn't like that. 

And, maybe that was why she held onto her doubts about his theory, more than she believed her own. If she could change things, even if for the worse, then she still had a choice, free will. 

Besides, whatever else, she'd run through the possibilities and she knew whichever way she went she really couldn't change or fix anything about SHIELD — it would become what it was anyway, growing and, sadly, twisting with the years and work of many people. Any changes to SHIELD in the past could be so easily rendered negligible by time itself. 

However, she did want to fix SHIELD. That had been her goal before her trip to 1946. Maybe by going over it with Howard, by playing spot-the-difference with the SSR, she could sort out her own ideas about what SHIELD _should_ become. It would be nice to have that clear in her head when she went home and got back to the tasks of building the New York base and helping Phil put the pieces back together. Maybe she could change the future of the future. 

"Okay," she agreed at last. "But let's do it the other way, you start with the SSR and I'll chip in."

"That'll work." Howard grinned and grabbed another scrap of paper.

***

After that first hit from the mobile network, she and Howard found two more, not as strong, but they were able to triangulate a more focused area. They redeployed their milk truck fleet and, a couple days later, narrowed down the location of the box to a neat, tidy warehouse. It was only a few miles from the warehouse Sousa and Peggy checked previously. 

Darcy was so happy she could have cried and then popped every bottle of champagne Howard had. They found the box! Or the location of something else that was giving off Tesseract energy — hopefully the box, but honestly, any of those items floating around needed to be contained immediately. But, really, sweet baby Thor, let it be the box. 

Peggy and Sousa took their findings to the SSR and somehow got Thompson on board. Busting a Hydra cell would surely be a nice feather in his cap, which seemed to be the part he really liked. But, if it focused his energies on Hydra and not on still being sore about Darcy dodging him, then awesome. Peggy insisted he'd do the job, and she trusted Peggy even if there was something about Thompson that didn't sit right with her. Not having spent much time with him, she couldn't say what it was exactly, but he seemed like a weird mix of opportunist and guy who believed in duty. Who knew which part of him would come out at any one time. Darcy really needed the duty side, but felt itchy trusting that that's what he'd show. 

As Howard predicted, Peggy wanted to surveil the location for a few days, too. The agent wanted numbers, she wanted any hint of a guard schedule, she wanted to know as much as she could before they moved. After Sgt. Reilly's epically inept attempt at kidnapping and his spectacular end, Peggy wasn't going to take any chances. Thompson tasked several agents to securing the area — anybody in or out of a four block radius was going to get a good look over to make sure Hydra couldn't slip away from them again. 

The wait was hell. As much as Darcy wanted to move right away, she tried to get herself and her head to slow down and she forced herself to remember Natasha's admonition that the ending was the most dangerous part of an operation. For almost two months she'd waited for this moment, she could take a deep breath and wait a little bit longer. 

While they waited, Howard and Dugan called in the rest of the Commandos. They all gathered at Camp Stark a few days before the planned assault on the warehouse, and as she looked at them all around the dinner table, Darcy grinned. Hydra wouldn't know what hit 'em. In a way, it was thrilling. All those people around the table. All that history for her, and the chance to be a tiny little part of it. But, geez, they were a boisterous bunch. It took an hour for Dugan to wear down Peggy's tense smile into something more natural. Well, an hour and a few glasses of whiskey. 

Later that evening, after Darcy had enough billiards and cigar smoke, she escaped to the library. In the stacks of books, she kept a small journal, and on those days when she felt most torn between the future and the past, she'd sit and write in it. Nothing big, nothing dangerous, only a record of her day, of the efforts to find Hydra and the box. It helped to see the words, to get them out of her head into some sort of coherent form. It was easier to see progress if she looked back at the entries; she didn't feel quite so adrift. 

Maybe Phil would accept the journal as her report of this whole ball of madness. Wow, she couldn't wait to see his face when she told him all about this. After he got over wanting to order a psych eval for her, he was going to be envious as hell. There was a bright side to everything, she supposed. 

There was no telling how she'd feel about all of this when she was back home. Some parts hurt more than she would have expected, and coping with that wasn't going to be easy. With every decision, everything she said and everything she didn't say, she'd be faced with the future she had a hand in making. Steve, Bucky, Howard. God. If it hurt now, how much more was it going to suck when she got home? How was she going to look her dad in the eye and tell him she let Howard be murdered by Hydra? How was she going to look at Steve, at Bucky, and tell them she left them?

With a sigh, she opened the journal, flipping through the pages to where she left off. Drawing her finger across a previous note — an argument with Howard about SHIELD's technical divisions of all things — she let herself smile a little. It wasn't all bad. She didn't want to forget this, she didn't want to forget these people. Even if she'd never see most of them again, she knew them now. They were all vivid and alive and human. They were more than stories in a history book, or tales from her father when he could work himself up to talking about them. They were friends, and fellow agents, and family. She wouldn't have forever with them, but she had now, and she wanted to record this. 

In the midst of updating the journal with the success at tracking the device, she was interrupted by the door opening and Peggy slipping in. She paused when she caught sight of Darcy, but only for a second, before she shut the door behind her and walked over to drop onto the couch.

"Don't mind me, I just need a bit of quiet," she told Darcy as she kicked off her heels and swung her legs up onto the cushions. 

"Everything okay?"

Running a hand over her forehead, clearly fatigued, Peggy told her, "I wasn't up for Dugan's twelfth re-telling of the time a nefarious Bavarian beauty got him drunk in a beer hall and tried to steal secrets." 

"He was heroically immune to her charms, I suppose," Darcy guessed, quickly finishing her thought on the page. If Peggy wanted to chat, Darcy was inclined to let her. They'd go for the device soon, and then Darcy'd be on her way home. Well, after she and Howard figured it out. But, still, the clock was ticking down. 

"Oh, of course," Peggy snorted. "Knew the whole time what she was up to. Never a doubt in his mind, and so on." 

"Sorry I'm missing it."

"Ask him any time, he'll be happy to tell it." Peggy propped her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her chin against her fist. "Why _are_ you missing it?"

"I needed some quiet, too." Darcy looked down at the journal. "I said goodnight, didn't disappear or anything."

"No, of course not." Peggy cocked her head and considered Darcy for a long moment. "You Starks are such an interesting lot."

With a little laugh, Darcy capped her pen and set it down. "'Interesting'. That's not a word people usually use to describe Starks. Too nice. What are we being _interesting_ about now?"

"I've never known such desperately sociable creatures who could also be so desperate for time alone. Howard can go from one party to the next for days on end, then vanish by himself for just as long." 

"Ah." Darcy took in Peggy's observation, twisting her mouth from side to side as she thought. "I guess it gets noisy up here," she said, tapping her temple, "and having people around is a nice distraction. But, after a while, we kind of need to get back to what's in our heads. My dad's the same way. Though, actually, I think the distraction doesn't always work as well for him as it might for me or Howard. God knows he's tried. He's thrown parties that would make Howard think 'you know, this might be a little too much'. But he gets bored."

"And what sort of parties have you thrown?" Peggy asked, amused. 

"Nothing crazy," Darcy said with a shake of her head and a sniff. "I'm the Stark family underachiever. A handful of get-togethers in college. Well, and then Thor's welcome back party. It lasted four days. Odes were written about it. I'm very proud."

"Four days? Like a weekend house party? Howard's thrown those that have lasted for a week or more."

Darcy pouted. Her party had been epic, thank you very much. "No, an actual bacchanalian feast thing," she corrected, raising her chin in challenge. "There were whole roast boars. And tankards overflowing with mead. And I think I ordered every chicken in three states. The Vikings couldn't have done it better. It was a good time. Or so I've heard. I don't remember parts of it," she admitted. "But, hey, he's a space prince from another realm. You've got to do those diplomatic functions up right."

Peggy laughed lightly and took a deep breath, leaning back against the couch. 

"So, speaking of noisy," Darcy said, observing the weary lines on the other woman's face. "You've got to be looking forward to getting all this over with so you can go back to your own place."

"I'll admit, it's been nice to spend time with the boys again, but, yes, I long for my own room. Even if it is Howard's, too." Peggy gave her a little smile. "He has many, many faults, but he is very generous with his friends."

"He is."

"And soon you'll be back home, too."

Darcy sighed and tapped at the open pages of the journal. "Well, it'll be a while, I think. We've got to get the box back, and then Howard and I have to figure out how to replicate what happened. I'm not out of your hair yet." 

Peggy shrugged and curled sideways on the couch like a cat. "You're hardly a bother. It's been very nice to get to know you."

Darcy smiled. "You, too."

The other woman was silent for a long moment before she asked, almost pleading, "You will come see me when you get home, won't you?"

"I will," Darcy promised. However hard it might be, she owed it to Peggy to not leave her wondering. Though, from what she'd heard from Steve, her memory came and went. Lucid one minute, foggy the next. Darcy could only pray Peggy would remember her, if only for an instant. 

"Good. Lord, I'll be bloody ancient," Peggy said with an amused chuckle. 

"Don't go getting any ideas that you're invincible," Darcy warned darkly, pointing a finger at her. "I'm not as certain as Howard that the future will be the way I left it."

"No, no." Peggy waved her concern away. "I won't. It all feels too distant now. Too far away and make believe, if that makes sense."

"It does."

Peggy gave her a close look-over, evaluating but kind. "I suppose the past feels much the same to you."

"Kind of surreal sometimes," Darcy admitted. "But less so now than at first. A first it was like the weirdest dream I've ever had." 

"And then you'll leave all your new friends," Peggy concluded with a rueful expression. "I'm sorry; that must be very difficult for you."

"But, I have today, so …" Darcy said quietly. "I don't know."

Peggy offered her a thin smile. "I saw you dancing with Gabe. You seem to get on well."

Letting out a long breath, Darcy rose from the desk, crossing the room to sit on an armchair nearer Peggy. The other woman watched her move with intense curiosity. 

"Just between you and me?" Darcy asked, settling herself. 

"Of course."

"I know his grandson." _Knew_. God, Trip. "When we met, I said it was like we were family. His granddad and Howard, you know? We're legacies, right? And he talked about his granddad a lot. So, it's nice to be able to get to know Gabe. He's a good guy and so is his grandson."

"Ah, I see," Peggy said, smiling softly. "So, perhaps cosmic fate isn't quite so awful, eh?"

Darcy rolled her eyes, even though she'd come to the same conclusion, and grumbled, "'K, you're not going to let that go, are you?"

"No, I don't think I will," she said with a haughty smirk. 

"You are a terrible person," Darcy accused and slouched down in the chair. 

Peggy laughed, a true, rich laugh. It was so easy to see why Steve loved her. Peggy Cater was such an intriguing mix of sharp humor, deep compassion, and intelligent competence. This was good, too. He wouldn't be the only person to remember her like this — young and vibrant — and he wouldn't be alone with those memories. Darcy was so, so glad for this. No, cosmic fate could be alright, she supposed. 

Swinging her feet off the couch, Peggy leaned down and gathered her shoes before standing up. "Well, I think I'll brave the game room again for a bit and then head to bed. Will you come?"

"No, not tonight. I want to finish what I was doing."

Peggy narrowed her eyes in thought and jerked her chin at the desk. "What are you writing?"

"Sort of a daily journal I've been keeping. Nothing sensitive. It helps." Darcy stood, too. "I'll have Howard keep it somewhere safe for me until 2015. I'm hoping it'll mean the Director won't make me write a whole other report on this." 

With a tsk, Peggy shook her head. "Ducking out of work."

"Doing my work early," Darcy corrected with a mild scowl. "As difficult as it was to come here, I don't think going back will be any easier," she said candidly. "Knowing me, and I do know me, I won't want to go through all of this again for a little while. I'll have too much to get through anyway."

"Will it really be that bad?" Peggy asked, frowning.

"I don't know. I think it probably will," Darcy grimly predicted. As Happy liked to point out, going back was always harder. 

Sucking in her cheeks, Peggy watched her silently, while Darcy went back to the desk, back to that work. 

"You know," Peggy said after a moment. "You're not alone. Don't let yourself be alone in this. Tell your father. Tell Sgt. Barnes. Tell Clint."

Leaning against the desk, Darcy raised an eyebrow and watched her back just as intently. "How often do you take your own advice?"

Nodding slowly, Peggy managed a tight smile. "Not as often as I ought, I suppose."

"I'll try," Darcy promised her and sat down. "But, us Starks, you know, we need our time to work through our heads. Don't worry, I'll make it. I always do."

"Yes, I think you do," Peggy murmured and turned for the door. "Goodnight, Darcy."

"Goodnight, Peggy."

***

The night wasn't as dark as they could have hoped for. Heavy clouds lay over the city, reflecting the light back down in a misty purple haze. The Commandos were quick black shadows flowing down the street, and into the warehouse's yard. A shout went up from the building, then a flash of light and a pop as somebody took a shot at them from a window. No, not as dark as they could have hoped for. 

Darcy slipped behind a truck, Peggy at her side. 

"Let them breach," Peggy said in a low voice, hefting her own weapon and ducking her head around the front of the truck to watch the Commandos' approach. 

"They can't get out?"

"No. Thompson's got men all around."

"Thompson," Darcy echoed under her breath. No matter what Peggy and Sousa said, she still didn't trust that dude. Every time she saw him, the two or three times they'd crossed paths, he watched her with flat eyes. It gave her the creeps. 

"He'll do the job," Peggy said sharply. 

"Alright, alright."

The Commandos exchanged gunfire with the Hydra agents in the building. Loud pops that died sharply in the damp autumn night. 

"Why are they still here?" Darcy asked as they waited. "What are they after?"

"A foothold, maybe," Peggy suggested absently, still watching the building. "Or, perhaps, they don't have everything they needed yet. As Howard suspected," she added, giving Darcy a look. "This city's as good as any other for hiding a cell."

"They knew we were on to them," Darcy protested stubbornly. Why _were_ they still here? If Darcy was Hydra, she would have cleared out to a safer location. 

Peggy pulled her head back around, and leaned back against the truck. She wore an expression of exasperation. "Maybe now's not the perfect time to bring this up? You might have thought of it sooner."

"But, I didn't," she said, feeling defensive. "And you didn't either."

"Well, what do you think, then?" Peggy demanded. 

"We know I busted their time table," Darcy said, then both women ducked instinctively when something in the yard blew up. "But, maybe they're in deeper than we suspect. Or they're after something else. The box wasn't their endgame."

"Just as well we're rooting them out now, then."

"I guess."

Peggy grabbed a handful of Darcy's black jacket — they were both dressed in bulky, black combat uniforms — and gave her a little shake. "Whatever else they're here for, we know they have the device. That's our target. Worry about that." 

"Right, right, you're right," Darcy said, taking a deep breath. 

Peggy looked around the truck again and nodded. "Weapon out. Dernier's reached the door. You remember the plan?"

"They fan out, we go right, following around the walls, watching any side rooms, and trying to identify the box," Darcy recited dutifully. 

"Don't get caught in crossfire," Peggy warned. 

"Is now the time to mention this is my first actual raid?" Darcy asked. 

"No," Peggy said, giving her an incredulous look. "It really isn't."

"I've totally done this before," Darcy lied in a chipper tone. 

Howard didn't like that Darcy was on this raid; the big reason she hadn't mentioned her inexperience. But, they also needed somebody who might have a better clue where to look for the device and what it would look like. Somebody with engineering experience. And both Thompson and Peggy were damned if they were going to let Howard anywhere near a tactical operation. Darcy was, at least, an actual agent. And she had two other particular concerns — the first, that Hydra would try to destroy the box rather than let the SSR take it, and the second, that Thompson would try to confiscate it. She was the only insurance policy that she could really count on to secure the device. 

"Wonderful," the other agent said on a weary breath. "Stay with me."

"Though, I have been in a building that was being sort of raided by bad guys," Darcy offered, recalling the escape from the New York HQ when Hydra announced themselves. "So, it's just that in reverse."

"And you always talk this much when you're doing this?"

"Seems like I do," Darcy said. "And I broke _out_ of a Hydra base."

"Then you're a natural. Now, be quiet," Peggy hissed and prepared herself for their approach to the building. 

They waited for a tense moment, before there was a louder, rumbling pop of Dernier breaching the door, then Dugan let out a weird howling yell. Peggy moved on his signal and started her jog across the yard. Darcy followed tightly behind her in a low crouch. They entered the partially lit building, hugging the interior wall as they circled around the Commandos' chaos. 

A Hydra agent dodged their way, but Peggy shot the man before Darcy could even take aim. They weren't quite so lucky when a second agent engaged them, a hulking man who leapt out of a side room onto Peggy, knocking her gun away. 

"Go," Peggy ordered her, breathless as she fought off the man's hands grabbing at her throat. Kicking out, Peggy nailed him squarely between his legs and brought her elbow down onto his skull. He staggered back, then shook himself like a wet dog and lunged for them both again. 

Darcy was trying to do as Peggy said, skirt around them, avoid the fight, but he caught her by the back of the jacket and yanked her into the wall. She grunted in pain when her shoulder blade connected with the unforgiving brick. When he tried to pull her back around again, her hand shot out, scrabbling desperately along the wall, hoping to catch on to something. Her fingers found a hard and metal object, and she blindly grasped it, swinging it back at him. Peggy ducked and Darcy clocked the man across the face with a fire bucket. That wasn't enough to put him down, either, but the skin split across his forehead, blood blinding him for a second. Long enough for the two agents to scramble aside.

Peggy dove for her pistol. "Down," she shouted, and Darcy dropped away, clearing the way for Peggy's shot. The man fell to his knees and snarled at them both before flopping face first onto the concrete and laying still. Darcy let out breath, made a quick check of Peggy, who was picking herself up, unharmed, and they ran again. 

As they jogged around the outer edge of the large, murky warehouse space, Darcy ran her eyes over every box and crate. She didn't exactly know what the power conversion unit looked like, nobody did, but she knew the size of it, had seen enough of Howard's other collection of Hydra bits and bobs to know it if she saw it. But there was nothing that looked right, and since the Commandos were well on their way to taking the main room anyway, she headed for a set of metal stairs to the upper loft. Another Hydra agent shouted at them, and this time Darcy was fast enough with her pistol. She winged him and he ducked behind a set of metal barrels for cover. 

Darcy hit the shaky stairs at a run, Peggy close behind her, firing her own weapon at the Hydra agent, keeping him pinned as they moved. At the top, Darcy dropped to the floor and reached back to pull Peggy down with her. There was an office taking up the far side of the space, maybe a third of it all together, and just outside were two men with big guns. 

Peggy gave Darcy a shove and they dove forward to shelter behind a jumbled pile of equipment on a pallet. Darcy glanced around the pallet, taking in the loft area. It looked like Hydra's break room and poker parlor. A few tables and chairs in the middle — food, drink, and cards spread across them — and a sink and small fridge by the corner nearest Darcy and Peggy. Beyond that were more pallets of equipment, a couple nasty looking cots, and against the back wall, a long work bench set under the factory windows. At the end of the bench she spotted a large, black box with circular fittings on one visible side and a line of gauges on the other. A few more pieces, half put together, were next to it. 

She glanced at Peggy who gave her a sharp nod, then they both inched around the sides of the pallet and opened fire. Peggy got her man almost immediately, but the second man took shelter in the office, and he'd pop out only long enough to send a couple rounds their way before hiding again. Darcy held up her fire and waited. The man was trapped, he wasn't going anywhere. 

Peggy shot a couple more rounds at the door, then circled out from behind the equipment and made her way to another, closer, collection of crates. It was smaller, though, she didn't have nearly enough cover. And still Darcy waited. Breathe through it, Clint always said. Just wait for the moment, don't force it. 

The man, ducked his head around the corner of the door, spotted Peggy and angled himself for a shot on her, and that's when Darcy fired. He went down with a thud. 

"Excellent shot," Peggy praised, her eyebrows high in astonishment. 

"My SO is a sniper," Darcy reminded her modestly. "I might not be the world's greatest marksman, but I'm not horrible." 

"I should say not," Peggy agreed as she stood slowly and cautiously moved towards the office, ready to check it was clear. Darcy backed her, and they made quick work of clearing the room. Another few cots, a desk, filing cabinets, and not much else. 

With a relieved sigh, Darcy went back out into the main room, and walked over to the large device on the table. The sounds of fighting below them were quieting. A few shots here and there, but she heard the Commandos calling out to each other, and no stupid Hydra 'cut off one head' crap. It sounded like they'd well and truly knocked down the bad guys. Yay them. It was damned nice to have a win. 

"I think this is it," she told Peggy as she leaned down to examine the box on the table. She gave it a nudge and it barely moved. Yeah, it was heavy as hell. 

Peggy nodded and went to the railing to the warehouse below and shouted down, "Dugan, when you're done playing, we've found the device. We'll need a few of you to move it."

"You got it, Peg," he called back, and in a few moments Dugan, Sawyer, and Morita clambered up the stairs to them. 

"This was fun," Dugan told Peggy with a bright grin. 

"Fun," Sawyer grumbled with a roll of his eyes. 

"Not a bad way to spend an evening," Morita said. 

Peggy agreed with 'Happy' Sam, however, and gave Dugan a very severe look. "We have a target. Now, let's get it out of here." 

"Anybody hurt?" Darcy asked when the Commandos slung their rifles over their shoulders and prepared to heft the box. 

"Nah," Dugan assured her. 

"Pinky got nicked on a ricochet," Morita offered, "but it stopped bleeding right away." 

"Good," she said, relieved. Too many people had gotten hurt because of her here anyway. "Now, whatever you do, do not drop that box. I'm begging you."

"We've got it," Sawyer grunted under the weight of the device. "What is this, anyway?"

"Something Hydra doesn't need to have," Peggy told him, watching the box with something like distaste crossing her features. Darcy couldn't blame her, Peggy'd had a first hand look at what Hydra weapons did to people, after all. 

"Jeez," Morita groused as they maneuvered the box to the stairs. "Just when you think you've got rid of those assholes."

The boys made their way down the stairs, but Darcy lingered for a moment. 

Peggy turned to her with a frown. "Darcy?"

"Just a sec." She went back over to the handful of other objects on the bench, and picked up one that was about the size of a iPad. "They probably don't need these, either."

"The SSR will take this all once we've secured the location," Peggy assured her. 

"Still," Darcy murmured and slid the object into the small satchel across her back. "Last bit of Hydra tech they had got stolen. Besides, it might tell us more about the unit, and anything more we can know will help get me home."

"Very well," Peggy said with a sigh and helped her collect the smaller items. 

As they readied themselves to leave, walking back towards the stairs, a voice shouted from below. "INCOMING!" 

An explosion tore through the warehouse and the loft above lurched drunkenly. Darcy grabbed the railing and shot Peggy a startled look. 

"Get out, get clear," Peggy ordered breathlessly. 

Another explosion set the stairs swaying. Sliding her hands down the handrail, Darcy leapt down the stairs, taking them three at a time. At the bottom, she paused to get her bearings, to figure out where the new round of chaos was coming from. Peggy didn't pause, but grabbed Darcy's shoulder and pulled her along. 

"They're coming out of the bloody sewers," Falsworth told them as they passed him. "They've breached the back wall. Go out the front, we'll hold them until you're clear."

"They've got another building nearby," Darcy mused. 

"Doesn't matter," Peggy insisted and gave her another tug. "The Commandos and the SSR will clear them all, but we have to get out."

Dernier was waiting by the door and he gave them both a grin and a smart salute as they ran by him. 

Out in the warehouse's yard, a trio of SSR agents were dashing by, heading around to circle the building and cut off the Hydra soldiers coming in. Peggy and Darcy made their way back to that first truck they'd sheltered behind. A few paces shy of the cover, a large dark shape melted out of the shadows and struck Peggy hard, knocking her down. Darcy jumped back with a yelp. 

" _Kill them_." It took Darcy a second to realize the words were spoken in Russian and she looked up at the looming figure above her. Her breath froze in her lungs and a strange, painful tingling shot down her spine and numbed her limbs. The Winter Soldier. 

His hair was shorter, but she recognized the eerie mask and dark goggles — a grim mimicry of Hydra's stupid black and chrome face masks. His arm was metal, but not the finished limb she knew, with its Stark tech armor and simulated musculature. This was a thin, cold skeletal prosthetic. 

" _Kill them_ ," the voice ordered again and Darcy saw the small man in the dark suit standing behind the Winter Soldier. 

Peggy was struggling to get up, her breath coming in painful gasps. Bucky raised his arm, a pistol in his hand, and aimed it at Peggy's head. 

"Bucky," Darcy called desperately. 

The Winter Soldier hesitated and turned his blank, cruel mask on her. She'd never actually been terrified of him until this moment, not this sort of bone-deep panicky terror. The goggles hid his eyes, and she wished she could see them; wished she could see if there was any expression in them, any spark of recognition when she said his name. Any bit of James Barnes still there.

" _Kill them, Soldier,_ " the man screamed at Bucky, pounding a hand on his shoulder. 

"Bucky Barnes," Darcy repeated.

"Shut up, girl," the man snarled.

"Kill me yourself, you coward," Darcy spat back. "Bucky Barnes," she said his name again. And he was immobile. "You are Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes."

"Shut up," the man yelled and advanced on her. She still had her pistol out and she lifted her shaking hand. Peggy was getting to her feet, and Darcy tried to pull the other agent behind her. Peggy fought her and brought up her own weapon. 

"Bucky," Darcy said his name again, as calmly and evenly as she could manage past her terror and horror. She'd never dreamed, never in her worst nightmares, that she'd be right here and so would he. This was … this was a cruelty she couldn't bear. "Bucky Barnes. Your best friend is Steve Rogers—"

The man — an observer? A handler? A sadistic, evil bastard? — had enough and he moved around from behind Bucky to try and slap at her. She fired. But her hand was shaking enough that, even at close range, she only managed to hit his forearm. He howled and stumbled back, grabbing the Soldier. Bucky was still watching her. Still that blank, horrible staring mask. Darcy took the moment they had, turned, grabbed Peggy and started them running. 

When they made it out onto the street, when they were halfway down the block with a ring of SSR vehicles between them and the Winter Soldier, when Darcy could bring herself to stop, she collapsed back against a panel van and slid to the ground. She tried to breathe through it, tried to shake off the numbing shock. 

Nausea was climbing up her throat, and she lurched to her knees to vomit in the gutter. Once her stomach was empty of everything but bile and acid, she sat back and raised her cold, trembling hands to her face, whipping off her glasses, tossing them onto the street. Her breathing stuttered and her throat closed around a sob. And then another sob, and then the whole awful reality of 1946 crashed down on her shoulders. 

She was leaving him, oh God, she was leaving him with Hydra. She ran away from him. She left him. She couldn't save him. Oh dear God, how did she do this? 

She wept until her throat ached, and she ran out of tears, her eyes burning. When she had nothing left but the dreadful weight of the grief and guilt of every horrible decision she had to make, she drew in several deep, shuddering breaths and wiped her tear-damped fingers on her pants. For the first time, she really, truly hated 1946 and everything about it. It was always difficult, but when the idea of Bucky Barnes in 1946 was a distant reality it was bearable, but now … now she saw him. Now it was all too real, all too horrendous. He would be Hydra's for another 70 years and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it. Another sob built in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

"Sgt. Barnes," Peggy said, her voice thin and distant. 

Darcy took a raspy, wet breath and glanced up at her. The agent was pale and shaken, and she was holding one arm tightly around her ribs. 

"That was Sgt. Barnes," Peggy pressed again, demanding an answer. 

"It was," Darcy agreed, her voice rough and husky from her crying jag. 

Peggy lowered herself to sit on the curb, wincing when she bent. "Good lord."

Darcy dropped her head back against the cool metal of the van and stared up at the purple clouds. She felt empty. All that grief and pain and she felt hollowed out, like there was nothing left of her. 

"You knew this? The whole time? You knew he was —"

"I knew," Darcy said, cutting off Peggy's sharp, accusing words. "I didn't know he was here. I didn't realize."

They were both silent for a time, listening to the sound of sirens and distant shouts as the SSR and Commandos cleared the rest of the Hydra soldiers away. After a minute or two, Darcy looked back down at Peggy, at the tight lines of shock and anger on the other woman's face. 

"Let Bucky die on that mountain, Peggy," Darcy pleaded. "Let him die fighting by Steve's side. Let Sgt. James Barnes be remembered as a good man who gave his life for his friend and his country."

"Darcy," Peggy exclaimed, her expression flabbergasted. "He's—"

"I know," Darcy hissed. "I know. That was the Winter Soldier."

"The Winter Soldier?"

"Bucky Barnes is dead," Darcy said, her tone grim and final. "That man is the Winter Soldier."

"And you've known this all this time. That he was out here. That he was … that?" She said again, but the accusation was gone, replaced by confusion. 

"Jesus, Peggy, I think about it every single day," Darcy moaned, another sob catching in her throat. "Sometimes it's so much that it chokes me until I can't breathe." Darcy ran a hand over her eyes. "Stay away from him. He's dangerous."

"I can't do that," Peggy shot back, anger returning. "If he continues to be a threat, I will have to respond."

"I know," Darcy sighed, there was no fight left in her. "Do what you have to do, but don't underestimate him. He's more dangerous than I can tell you. And I would never ask you to jeopardize anything or look the other way because of who he is and who he will be; that's too selfish. But, just, can you please, _please_ , leave Bucky's name out of it? Give him the chance to come home one day."

Peggy eyed her warily, uncertain. "That's what you want?"

"It's what he deserves." Darcy wiped her sleeve across her eyes, reached out for her glasses, and pulled herself to her feet. He'd be gone by now. Long gone. Back to wherever Hydra was keeping him. This was probably his test run. They brought out the Winter Soldier for the first time. There was some satisfaction in the fact that she'd made him hesitate — and not just because it kept him from killing them both. Fuck Hydra. At least she could screw them this one time. 

"How do you do it? How do you carry this?" Peggy asked her. 

"By remembering the good man I know. I've thought this through every single way I could, all the ways I could spare him from what he's going to go through." She took a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. "And every time I think about it, I realize I can't save him. Not right now."

"Some day," the other woman sighed and Darcy held a hand out to help her back to her feet. 

"God, I hope so, Peggy," Darcy told her. "And I hope he forgives me, 'cause I don't know if I can forgive myself."


	12. Chapter 12

Darcy didn't sleep the night after the raid. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Bucky standing over Peggy with his gun to her head. 

Shivering under her blankets after that nightmare vision, there was no real hope of rest despite her physical and emotional exhaustion. Eventually she gave up trying and snuck down to the library. Retrieving her journal, she sat down at the desk and read through it, adding a few notes here and there, until well into the early morning hours. Once she heard the Commandos start to stir, she stashed the journal back on its shelf and, like the mature adult she was, ran on her tip-toes up the stairs to her room. 

The boys had been giddy with their success, and they deserved it, but she wasn't ready for that yet. A chunk of her victory felt an awful lot like a slow, rolling tragedy. 

While the lack of sleep wasn't particularly healthy, it did mean she was exhausted and numb enough to make it through the day without thinking too much. Well, she got through the morning, anyway. Which was all Chief Thompson wanted, and for once they were able to be civil. She went through her debrief and gave him everything about the raid — though she was vague about the status of the box. She wasn't sure what deal he had with Howard that let him keep it, but she wasn't going to bring it up if Thompson wasn't. He was happy enough with the removal of a Hydra cell, and God knew they confiscated plenty of other equipment and weaponry. 

The Chief was so happy, in fact, that he easily acquiesced to her request to leave her name out of the reports. Of course, he also admitted it would be easier for him to explain an unidentified agent than Stark's mysterious cousin. She really couldn't disagree with that. He gave her the designation "Agent 03" and redacted any mention of her name. 

After her debrief, Thompson directed her to a desk and she dutifully sat down and typed up her report. There was no avoiding mention of the Winter Soldier — Bucky hit Peggy like a Mack truck, and she would be out for a few days while the bruised ribs healed — but Darcy described him only as an unidentified Hydra soldier. During a brief, terse conversation before Darcy went to the station, she and Peggy agreed to account for their escape from the assassin by simply saying his behavior was odd and once Darcy shot his handler, the man stopped responding to orders. Gosh, it sure was inexplicable. Maybe it was some sort of mind-control; the SSR had some recent, ugly experience with that, after all. 

When she'd finished her report and turned it in to Thompson, he'd smiled at her and wished her well. He seemed sincere. Which … okay. She returned his sincerity with her own, thanking him for his help and for his agents. Then he stood, offered her his hand, and told her he hoped they'd never see each other again, because, damn it she was a pain in the ass. Darcy laughed, gave his hand a solid shake, and promised she'd never set foot in his station again. That was one promise she had a good chance of keeping. 

After that she was free and not sure what to do with that freedom. There was nobody after her anymore. Howard was already working on the box, but she was too tired to dive right into that. Rose Roberts waved as Darcy made her way out of the SSR building, and she paused long enough to thank the other woman for her help and say goodbye. Then she was out the doors and standing on the sidewalk staring at the city around her. 

1946\. For weeks she'd had one overriding goal — get that damned box — and she didn't spend much time looking around her. But, right now, unburdened by that desperate search, suddenly the past didn't feel like a constant struggle to blend in, or an endless, tiring chore to understand. With the box acquired, she was at loose ends, and so, for the first time she could stand on a street corner as an observer from a distant land. She watched the people flow around her and the traffic rumble by. She counted the Packards on the street, the men in their fedoras, and the ladies in their colorful dresses. 

It was a nice morning for a walk, she decided. The temperature was mild, with just a hint of a light, crisp breeze, and the sky was clear. 

Her first autumn in the city was right after the Chitauri invasion. Block after block scarred by rubble and broken buildings, and she spent busy days helping Pepper and helping Jane, with a dash of getting to know her dad's new teammates. She'd been too occupied to really experience the season. But, on a bright day, just like this one, she'd walked through Brooklyn with Steve Rogers as he told her his story. History books and films could tell her all about the differences from his day to hers, but she wasn't able to see what he saw. Now she was in his world, seeing the city only he and history remembered, while he slept in the ice. And the decades would roll by, and in her silence, she was stealing every one of them from him. 

Chilled, Darcy tugged her coat more tightly around her and shoved her hands in the pockets. She walked on, doing her best to absorb the world around her. The sights, the smells, the sounds. They day had a crystalline quality to it, the thin autumn light giving everything a sharp edge. It almost felt fake, though. Too bright, too vivid. 1946 in HD. 

After a few blocks, it became too much. Too much input, with not enough energy to process it. She took a taxi to Central Park, and had the driver drop her at the entrance closest to the townhouse. For just a moment, she thought, very seriously, about heading into the park, but she was overloaded, her heart and head ached, and it was a chore to put one foot in front of the other. Reluctant as she was, she couldn't avoid the house forever. 

The Commandos were there for another few days, leaving in ones and twos to return to their posts, but Dugan was sticking for another week. She needed to spend the time she could with them; this day would never come for her again. 

Peggy was still there, too. Howard, Jarvis, and Angie refused to let her move back to the penthouse until she could draw a breath that didn't make her wince. Except for the moment they took to agree to their story, they hadn't spoken much. Darcy couldn't even begin to guess what was going through Peggy's head. Bucky Barnes didn't time travel like she had, he'd been shaped into Hydra's most dangerous weapon, and now Darcy was asking her to keep that secret for seventy years. God, that was so unfair, but Darcy had to ask for it. 

"Did you take the bus?" Jarvis greeted, pouncing on her as soon as she opened the front door. 

"I took a taxi," she told him and started to shuck her coat. 

He hurried around her and helped her out of it, then draped it over his arm and gave her a severe look. "I would have come for you."

"I know. I wanted to walk a little bit first."

Pursing his lips, he hung her coat and asked, "Are you ill? You're extremely pale and you didn't touch your breakfast."

"No, just tired."

"Well, come to the kitchen. I've just started tea. You'll have a cup and a scone." Darcy shook her head, but he put on his most stern expression and pointed the way down the hall. "I'll hear no argument."

Darcy laughed a little and gave him a quick hug. She'd miss him like crazy. "Tea sounds fantastic."

"Yes, I thought it might," he said with just a hint of butlery smug, and gave her a little, guiding nudge down the hall. 

Once he'd settled her in the kitchen with tea and pastries, keeping one eye on her to make sure she actually ate something, Jarvis set about preparing lunch. Howard was like Tony in that way — he didn't employ a lot of staff, the chef only came for dinner and the housekeepers in the morning. Jarvis seemed happy enough with that, though. 

"Mr. Stark is excited for your birthday on Saturday," he said. "Have you decided what you'd like to do?"

Darcy took a sip of her tea and shrugged. "Honestly, Mr. Jarvis, I forgot about it."

He shot her a worried look before turning back to chopping carrots. "Well, you've a few more days to consider it. Perhaps a special dinner? Anything at all you'd like." 

"I don't know."

"Come now, Miss Lewis," he chastised gently. "Allow us to celebrate you while you're here. Is there nothing special you'd enjoy?"

"I don't know," she mumbled again. 

Jarvis was silent for a moment, only the sound of his chopping breaking the quiet of the room, but then he sighed and put down the knife to join her at the table. 

"I don't know what happened last night," he said as he primly took a seat, "and while Mr. Stark and the Commandos seem pleased, I can see very clearly that something unpleasant happened to you and Agent Carter. Not only is she injured, but she didn't eat breakfast, either. I've never known her to pass up a meal." He pressed his lips together, his face falling into lines of compassion and concern. "If you'd like to talk about it, I'm very willing to listen. And, I can assure you, I will keep your confidences."

It was tempting to tell him, to spill the whole story out over the table like a hoard of cursed, ugly treasures. But, she couldn't do that to him. It was bad enough she was asking Peggy to tote them through the decades for her. 

"Mr. Jarvis, there's so much I can't say," she told him as she stared into her cup, far more fascinated by the golden hue of the tea than it deserved. "I can only really tell you that last night Peggy and I ran into somebody very dangerous. A Hydra assassin. He's the one who hurt Peggy. Obviously, we weren't expecting him, and it shook us both."

Jarvis swallowed heavily and poured himself a cup of tea. "I see. And where is he now?"

"I've got no idea," she said, glad of it. She was glad she didn't know where he was, glad she didn't know what they were doing to him. It was selfish, but she was glad, because knowing would have meant tormenting herself further with all the things she couldn't do for him. She kind of hated herself a little bit for being glad, but she was so tired. 

"Should you have been out walking with him still at large?"

"He's gone, Mr. Jarvis," she assured him quietly. "They lost their hold here; there was no reason to keep him in the city. Not right now."

"You're certain? How can you be certain?" he demanded, his voice taking on a shrill edge of panic. 

"Because I knew about him all along," she said and felt a burn of regret, and possibly shame, creeping up her cheeks. "I'm sure that's part of why Peggy's upset. I never told her."

"I see," he said again and took a gulp of his tea, wincing when it burned. 

"I didn't know he was in the city," Darcy continued, half to herself. "If I had … actually, I have no idea what I would have done." What _would_ she have done? They needed the box, but could she have forced herself to go up against Bucky? Dangerous as he was, could she have directed the Commandos to defend her against their friend and Sergeant? Good God. 

Setting his cup down, Jarvis nodded once and gave her a very serious look. "Well, I think you know what you ought to do now."

Darcy grimaced and crushed a piece of scone under her thumb, feeling suddenly petulant. "Explain to Peggy?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "It's only fair that she understands."

"I know," she muttered. 

When she made no move to get up, he cleared his throat and, with a great deal of patience, pointed out, "Apologies, unlike wine, are not improved by age."

Pursing her lips, she pushed away her tea and got to her feet. 

"Courage, Miss Lewis."

***

Darcy found Peggy in the conservatory overlooking the back garden. The flower beds were bare, the trees had long since lost their leaves, and the fountain was dry. It was a gloomy, desolate view for such a bright, sunny day. 

Peggy was reclining on a chaise, a tray with tea and untouched scones on the end table next to her. There was a book open on her lap, but she was staring pensively out into the browning garden. 

"I didn't know he was active now," Darcy said as she stood in the doorway. She wasn't sure if her presence was welcome or not. 

Peggy didn't look away from the windows, or start in the slightest. "I see."

"They keep him frozen between missions. Locked away for decades."

"Does he know who he is?"

"I don't think so." Darcy took two steps into the room and faltered again. "Though, he's said things. I think there are moments before they use their controls on him where he's almost aware. But, then they take it all away from him again." As always, that thought set off a swirling churn of grief and rage in her heart. 

Peggy lifted a hand and pressed it to her eyes. "How?"

Darcy knew what she was asking — not how the process worked, but how this all happened in the first place. How Bucky Barnes began to crumble and how the Winter Soldier was born. "Before Cap rescued him, that crazy one-man raid on—"

"I remember," Peggy cut in, her voice tight and clipped. 

Oh, yeah, of course she'd remember. Peggy'd been the one to get Howard to fly them behind enemy lines to drop Steve. That wasn't even three years ago. Darcy took a deep breath. "Hydra tested their version of the serum on him."

"As early as then?" Peggy exclaimed and turned to Darcy at last. "Surely not. I didn't know Sgt. Barnes before, but he didn't appear altered from his file, and Steve never said anything."

"I'm sure he didn't know. Hell, I don't know if Bucky even had an idea of what they were doing, and it's possible they didn't get all the way through the process then. I'll be honest, there's a lot of what they did to him that we don't know. But he's got the strength and the speed, but not quite as … " Darcy waved her hands in the air, in vague gestures miming Steve's size — she had to be so careful about what she said here, "bulky, I guess." 

Peggy gave her a look and a shake of her head. "He seemed plenty large enough last night."

Chewing on her lower lip, Darcy finally let herself step fully into a room and take a chair across from Peggy. "I'm sorry he hurt you. He'll be horrified when I tell him. If I tell him."

"Yes, you're very good about not saying things, aren't you?" Peggy asked, an acerbic bite to her tone. 

Darcy felt her nostrils flair and she tipped her chin up. She could feel horrible about all this, but damn it, she was doing the best she could. "Yes, I am. I have to be." 

Peggy's gaze traveled over Darcy's face, searching for something. Darcy held herself still under the examination. 

"So," Peggy said at last, sitting up with a wince and setting her book aside. "For the next seventy years, he's going to be that."

Darcy sucked in her cheeks and stared down at the colorful mosaic floor. "Until July 16th, 2014." Maybe it was dangerous to give Peggy the date, maybe she'd do something that would foul things up. But, it felt important just then to give something specific, to give her that hope that there would be a day, a very particular day, when Bucky Barnes would be free. 

"That's when you met him."

"That's the day he broke their control. I met him two days later at one of the Smithsonian museums."

Peggy frowned and her voice was very tight when she asked, "What was he doing there of all places?" Darcy stared back at her and shook her head slowly. Peggy's frown fell into something far more unhappy. "I think I have a right to know."

"Maybe," Darcy said, still shaking her head. "But there are things I _won't_ tell you. You can be as unhappy with me as you want, but I can't do it, Peggy."

"How did the control break?" Peggy pressed, persistent and dogged as only Peggy Carter could be. "Is it always so easy as saying his name?"

"I didn't know if that would work, but it was the only thing I could think to try," Darcy admitted. "There's no way we could have fought him; he would have killed us both. As for why it worked, I don't know, maybe they're not done with him yet. I bet they add more controls after this. I promise you, it won't work that way again." Not without Steve to say it, anyway. 

Darcy shut her eyes as her throat threatened to close up. Did she make things worse for Bucky? Is this something she _did_ change? Could he have broken free sooner if he never ran into her in 1946? Did she just condemn him to additional decades? Boy, this was awesome. What else did she fuck up? 

Peggy let out a gusty sigh. "It's not your fault."

"Isn't it?" Darcy opened her eyes and let her gaze wander out to the bleak garden, that chill creeping down her spine and over her skin again. 

"These people, I've fought them longer than you." Peggy paused and sighed again. "Maybe I haven't. Maybe we've each fought them for years. You know, as well as I, the endless depths of their cruelty and viciousness. You didn't do this to Sgt. Barnes anymore than I did by leaving him."

"You didn't leave him," Darcy protested wearily. 

"And you can keep saying that as often as you like, but I will always wonder," Peggy said, tapping her fingers along the arm of the chaise. "If we'd just been more thorough, if we'd just spent another day out there, might we have found him?"

Darcy looked back at her and smiled a little. "You were busy fighting a war at the time. I think you were probably pretty tied up."

"I suppose," Peggy allowed with a small shrug and another wince when the motion pulled at her ribs. "How did his control break in 2014?"

"I won't tell you," Darcy said with true regret. It would be so easy to say 'Steve', but that was a line she couldn't cross. Not even for Peggy, not even for Steve. This part of the future was the one thing she could protect, even if she screwed up everything else. Steve was important to the future, they needed him there. It was a hard, cold choice, but she had to make it. 

"Darcy, please. It might be important. What if he comes after somebody again?"

"You can't save him, Peggy," Darcy warned. "Nobody can."

"Nobody but you?" she sniffed.

"Not even me." 

Exasperated by Darcy's refusal to answer, Peggy leaned into the cushions and spread her arm along the back of the chaise, staring at her. "You're extremely frustrating."

"I know." Darcy gave her the closest thing to a smile she could manage. Then she swallowed heavily and stared at the tile again. "He's far more dangerous than anybody you've ever encountered. If you give him the chance, he'll kill you." 

Darcy looked back up and frowned as she considered her own words. "Now I get why Natasha was so freaked out when I said I met him in the museum. Christ. Well, I'm going to tell you what she told me — don't go looking for answers. You will get the wrong sort of attention. And I know you're an amazing agent, and I know you're damned capable, and I know you have training and resources, but Peggy, he _will_ kill you. Tell me you understand."

"It is my job to counter threats," Peggy replied simply, unbothered by Darcy's warning.

"Oh my God," Darcy moaned. "Please, Peggy. You can't save him. You can't stop him."

"This is not my first assassin, you know?" Peggy huffed. "Dottie Underwood—"

"Okay, look, I don't know her," Darcy cut her off with a grumble. "I know what you've said, and she seems to really freak out Agent Sousa, but look, whatever she is, she's got nothing on the Winter Soldier. Don't forget I know one of those little girls. I was —" Darcy stopped as a thought started to take shape in her head. It wasn't complete, but there was something …

Peggy made a strangled, exasperated sound in her throat. "I know you were trained—"

"What's the difference between Hydra and Leviathan?" Darcy blurted, interrupting the other woman.

"What?" Peggy struggled to sit up, her eyebrows raising. 

"How are they different?" Darcy demanded, needing this answer more than anything else in that moment.

"I don't understand the question."

"We've been using the names interchangeably," she said in a rush as her mind worked. She didn't know much about Leviathan, just what was in SHIELD histories, and even then it wasn't much. A vague, amorphous threat that made a mess and vanished back into whatever hole they'd crawled out of. They were before SHIELD's time. That was old SSR stuff. 

"Well, when Hydra collapsed there was something of a power vacuum," Peggy said slowly, trying to figure out where Darcy's question was coming from. "I'd say, in its simplest, Leviathan is an opportunist attempt to fill that void."

"But, are they Hydra?"

"I … don't know," Peggy answered cautiously, uncertainly, thinking it through, too. "I assumed some Hydra refugees made their way to Leviathan. Not at all surprising. I've seen a familiar face or two. But, we haven't managed to get a clear picture of their goals yet. So, I can't accurately compare their philosophies."

Slumping down in the chair, Darcy ran a hand over her mouth. She didn't need to know Leviathan's philosophy. Hydra never went anywhere. Hydra just reshaped itself into whatever it needed to be. Leviathan first. And then SHIELD. And all those pieces finally came together in her head. Hydra. Leviathan. Russia. Assassins. Bucky. Natasha. Oh God. They knew each other. That's why Natasha was so terrified of him. She _knew_ him. And that's why Bucky was so skittish when her name came up. He remembered something. 

"Darcy, what?"

"Nothing."

"No," Peggy exclaimed, her voice heating. "You don't get to say 'nothing'. This is important. Lives are at stake."

Haunted by this new revelation, Darcy couldn't answer for a moment. What had Bucky done to Natasha to so terrify her?

"It's _not_ important," she mumbled at last. Not important now, not important to Peggy. Important in other ways, maybe. Important in ways she'd probably wish she'd never had an idea about. But nothing relevant to the situation today. 

"Blast it, Darcy." Peggy forced herself up off the chaise and paced around the room. "I am bloody well tired of these half answers. I want to know."

"They knew each other," Darcy murmured, rubbing at her forehead. 

"Who?" Peggy's face creased in a baffled expression. "Hydra and Leviathan?"

"No, Natasha and Bucky. That's why she's so afraid of him." Darcy hunched forward in the chair and felt chilled to the bone again. God, couldn't she have one little day where nothing hurt? Just one? 

Feeling shaky, she stood and gave Peggy a long look. "Don't go after him, Peggy. And I'm not telling you that because he's Bucky Barnes. I'm telling you, because I don't want you to get hurt." 

Crossing her arms in a mulish stance, Peggy stared back. "I'll do what I have to do."

"Okay, now who's being frustrating?" Darcy threw her hands up in the air and started to stomp out of the room. She turned at the door. "He's my partner. I know him. However afraid you are of the Winter Soldier, it's not enough."

"I am not moved by portentous statements of doom," Peggy shot back, her spine straight and her head held high. 

"Peggy …" Darcy bit her upper lip and took a steadying breath. "Never mind. Do whatever. I'm not going to argue with you about it." 

Weary as she was, an almost comforting feeling of resignation settled over her. Peggy wouldn't save him, because she didn't. Because Darcy met a lost and adrift Bucky Barnes on a park bench one muggy summer day sixty-eight years from now. Howard better freaking be right about her inability to change things, because if Peggy ran off and got herself murdered by the Winter Soldier, that would really, really piss her off. 

"I'm tired," Darcy muttered. "I'm going to take a nap. Go easy on the ribs, don't make Jarvis grumpy. Try and do that, at least."

Peggy snorted, gave her head an annoyed shake, and returned to the chaise and her book. 

***

The persistent chill Darcy'd been feeling since the raid on the warehouse turned out not to be lingering grief, stress, and dread. No, it was a stupid, freaking fever. Peggy and Jarvis's predictions that she would make herself ill were finally right. Jarvis was too polite to say 'I told you so', but it was on his face as he tutted around her and brought endless cups of mint tea with lemon and honey. For two days she stayed in her room, the fever and a hacking cough laying her low. Well, at least she had an excuse to hide. 

Angie kept her company, ignoring Darcy's attempts to shoo her off. 

"Hey, if I get sick, I get a few days off work," she said with a shrug and flapped a magazine at Darcy. "Did you see Hedy Lamarr is going to have another baby? How's she have the time, I gotta ask you? I can barely manage my own life."

"Nannies," Darcy said with a cough. 

"Oh, yeah. Must be nice." Angie flipped through a few pages of the magazine before asking, "Did you have a nanny?"

"God no," Darcy croaked out. "We weren't rich. I had grandparents who didn't live far, and my best friend has a million relatives. There was always somebody to keep an eye on us."

"Yeah, my ma had our whole building in her pocket." Angie sighed and closed the magazine, then tapped it on her knee for a minute. "Okay, it's like this—"

"Oh my God," Darcy groaned.

"Your birthday's in two days. Mr. Stark is driving everybody up the wall about it. You've gotta pick something." When Darcy started to groan again, Angie shook her head sharply. "Don't do it for you, do it for us. Do it for your friends, because I think we all wanna sock him." 

With another round of coughing, Darcy struggled to sit up higher in the bed and looked out towards the windows. When she caught her breath, she asked, "What would you do?"

Angie pursed her lips and thought about it. "If I was rich—"

"No, just regular," Darcy interrupted. "On your birthday, what's fun?"

"Oh, well, I always liked to go to Coney Island. But, my birthday's in June."

"I've never been."

Angie gaped at her. "Never?"

"No. Never had time," Darcy told her. "Too busy. There's always something."

"Well, I don't suppose much is open," Angie said with a frown. "But you could still walk along the boardwalk. Though, I don't know how much Mr. Jarvis would like that, you being sick and all."

"I'll get better," Darcy said, determined. She had no particular longing for Coney Island, but it sounded different, and she remembered both Steve and Bucky talking about it. Could be worth seeing it, even in November. Also worth having a goal to get her ass out of bed for. 

Angie looked doubtful and like she regretted suggesting the outing. Probably because somebody would wonder why Darcy was suddenly hankering to go out, and she'd be the guilty party. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of a Jarvis disappointed face. "How 'bout the pictures, instead? _Notorious_ is still playing. Weren't you saying how you liked Cary Grant?"

"I love Cary Grant," Darcy confirmed. That could be decent, too. It was fun going to a movie back when that was still almost an event. "Maybe. But only if I'm not trying to cough up a lung. Nobody wants to see a movie with somebody hacking in the audience."

"Yeah," Angie said, her face falling. "That's true. I'd have to kick you out on principle."

Darcy laughed and then started coughing again. She flopped back onto her pillows and sniffled. "I hate being sick."

"Drink your tea," Angie ordered, picking up the cup and holding it out to her. 

In the end they did go to Coney Island and walk along the boardwalk. Peggy's ribs were still stiff and sore and Howard wasn't keen on the idea, but he sent Dugan and Jarvis along, and she and Angie had a nice afternoon with the boys. It was chilly and gray, but the weather was dry. Angie took a couple dozen pictures with the camera she purloined from Jarvis. Darcy wondered for a moment how the future would take seeing pictures of her in the past. But, Jarvis promised her he'd keep the photos private after they were developed, and suggested she'd like the momentos when she got home. 

Darcy wasn't up for a movie after that, still feeling wrung out, but Howard had planned a dinner for her anyway. Since she wouldn't offer any menu suggestions, Jarvis took over and ordered the chef to prepare a rack of lamb with mint sauce, buttered peas and carrots, and roasted potatoes. She might not have been in the best of spirits for a party, but the food was good, the company excellent, and her cough had cleared enough to allow her to enjoy both. 

After dinner, as the dishes were cleared, Howard insisted it was time for presents. Darcy just shook her head at him, but she smiled anyway and accepted it. From Angie she got a sweet little silk handkerchief with embroidered chrysanthemums on one corner. Jarvis gave her a beautiful, rich red wool scarf. Peggy gave her a square, wrapped package and an amused smirk. When Darcy opened it to reveal a Captain America pulp magazine, she laughed enough that she started coughing again. Dugan hurriedly gave her his present — a bottle of bourbon along with the assurance that "it'll take care of that cough". 

Finally it was Howard's turn. He dashed to his office and came back with a long velvet jewelry box. 

"Howard," she said in a low, warning tone. 

"Don't argue," he grumbled and dropped the box in front of her. "For crying out loud, I'm allowed to get you a present."

"Yes, you are," Darcy murmured and stood to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

He swatted her away. "No, you're germy."

Darcy rolled her eyes and sat back down. She stared at the present for a moment, then, opening it hesitantly, like it might explode, she let out a breath when she saw the necklace inside. Suspended from a rope of thin, platinum links, was a large pearl. Angie let out a whistle when Darcy pulled the necklace out of its box. 

Lifting the piece up, letting the light from the crystal above the table illuminate it, Darcy looked closer. At the bottom of the links was a thin piece of platinum an inch or so long, worked in an abstract texture, with the pearl fixed at the end. Turning it, she saw how the piece flared out along the back of the pearl in a subtle, wave-like design. And as she turned it, her eye caught on the line of small diamonds climbing up the metal towards the chain. They flashed under the light, and her eye travelled up the chain, where she counted another half-dozen diamonds set between the links. 

"It's beautiful Howard," she said, feeling breathless. She didn't know an awful lot about design, that was more her friend Marley's area, but this didn't feel like a modern necklace. The links were irregularly shaped — some long and thin, some short and round. The diamonds were small, but even then the sizes varied. The pearl was large but natural, and its wave setting more suggestive than representative. If she had to guess, she'd say it looked more 20s or 30s Art Deco than 1946 modern. Which meant Howard hadn't just gone to a local jewelry store and bought her something new. He'd really, really looked. 

She wasn't going to guess how much it cost; this was pricy in any era. But, it didn't matter, anyway. Her grandfather gave her a birthday present, and that was worth more than anything his fortune could buy. 

Not caring that she was 'germy' she stood again and threw her arms around him. He patted her back gently.

"I thought about gold, but you're too classy for gold. Platinum's better for you. And I was thinking something a little more … _something_ , but you're too classy for that, too." He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. "Let's see how it looks, huh?"

She couldn't speak, but nodded and handed him the necklace, then turned and held her hair while he slipped it around her neck and fixed the clasp. She set it down against her chest, adjusting it, then looked up at the others. 

Dugan let out a whoop. "Fantastic."

"Beautiful," Jarvis praised. "Exactly right."

"It's very lovely, Darcy," Peggy agreed, giving her a smile. They hadn't really talked since their argument in the sunroom, just light nothings, but Darcy thought that both of them were too tired to hold on to the aggravation of that moment. Darcy smiled back. 

"Yeah, it is," Angie breathed and stood to get her own closer look. "Can I?"

Darcy nodded and Angie lifted it and brushed a finger along the pearl. "Gosh, that's just gorgeous. Really nice, Mr. Stark."

"Why thank you, Miss Martinelli." Howard turned Darcy to face him so he could get his own look. He gave a sharp nod of satisfaction. "Yep. Perfect. 'Course it looks better on you than it did at the store. You make it shine."

Darcy laughed a little and bowed her head. "Howard."

"Nope. It's not the jewelry, it's the woman," he said, stubbornly. 

Her eyes stung a little, but she smiled at him and accepted the compliment. "Thank you, Howard. Really, thank you."

He leaned closer to her and tapped the links on her collar bone. "It'll keep, too."

"Yeah, it will. I'll treasure it forever."

He stared at her for a long moment, silent, watching her face. Then he grinned his wild, mercurial grin, and clapped his hands. "Who wants dessert?"

***

It was another week before Darcy felt completely recovered, and then she started back at work with Howard. Their study of the box was slow-going — mostly by design, actually. The last thing they wanted to do was destroy the device. The other pieces she'd picked up at the warehouse were systems of capacitors and resistors for funneling and storing the power of the cube without overloading and destroying the weapon cells they were trying to charge. Howard had a resistor, but he didn't have a capacitor and was excited by her acquisition. 

"This might be the key. That piece I've been missing to figure out Schmidt's trick." He grinned then looked thoughtful. "Did I ever figure it out?"

"I have no idea," Darcy muttered, not looking up from the paperwork she was revising. Howard was also determined about SHIELD, and he kept making her go over his proposals. 

"You really have no idea, or you're just saying you have no idea?" he demanded. 

Bracing her elbow on the desk, she glared up at Howard. "I really have no idea. I'm sure it's classified. And frankly, our family archives are so huge, I've never been through most of that stuff."

Howard's mustache drooped. "Well, that's disappointing."

"Which part?" she asked with a smirk.

"All of it," he grumbled. "Geez, sweetheart, go through the archives when you get home, would you? I left that there for a reason. At least, I'm sure I did."

"I'm sure you did, too," she said with bored patience and tried to go back to the proposal, but he kept talking. 

"You know, if you'd done it before, like you should have, then we'd have a head start at this," he said, his voice taking on a tone of imperious arrogance. 

Darcy gave him a black look. "Seventy years, Howard. I do have other things to do, too, you know. I'm not laying around eating bonbons all day. I've got like five jobs. Give it a rest."

He frowned at her and cocked his head. "You work too hard."

"You are actually a ridiculous person," Darcy sighed and very pointedly turned her gaze back to the pages in front of her. 

"Peggy says that all the time," he grumbled.

"Peggy's right."

He grunted and bent back over the capacitor box. "So, what's going on with you two?"

"Nothing."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No, I'm actually not," Darcy said. "The Hydra assassin shook us both. I knew that whole thing felt too easy."

"Easy?" he exclaimed. "Are you forgetting what we had to do to find them?"

"Well, I waited until we were about to go in to wonder why they were still hanging around after Sgt. Reilly exploded," Darcy explained. "Peggy wasn't happy about that. And then there was the assassin. I think they were hoping to trap us. Trap me. Or maybe that would be a side-benefit. I don't know. Anyway, she got hurt, I feel bad, she wasn't happy, and there you go. We talked."

He narrowed his eyes but the draw of the capacitor was too much and he didn't ask any more questions. Darcy breathed out a long, quiet breath. She really _didn't_ want to talk about the Winter Soldier with Howard. She didn't even want them to exist side-by-side in her head in a brief, fleeting thought — like this one. 

Tapping at the paper, she refocused her thoughts. "Did you mean to say 'eradicate'?"

"Yes," Howard replied, not looking up.

Darcy squinted at him. "Are you sure? Isn't that a little … strong?"

He blew out a harsh breath through his nose. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to eradicate threats to our country."

"Yeah, okay but, really, 'eradicate'?"

Howard put his hands on the workbench, and turned to give her a narrow-eyed look. "Yes, _eradicate_."

Unperturbed by his glare, she continued, "The problem with that word, is, well, not _that_ word so much, as the word 'threats'. Like how are we defining 'threat'?"

"I think that's pretty clear," he shot back, clearly losing the little patience he had for this conversation. 

"No, see, it's not," she insisted, jabbing a finger at him. "That's the problem. Hydra is a threat. But, is that drug pusher a threat that needs to be eradicated, or a threat that needs to be shut down and locked up? But, we can't change the word 'threat', because it needs to be that open to cover the wide range of situations and jackasses. However, when the word 'threat' is so vague, that makes the word 'eradicate' way, way too strong." Plus, she really didn't want to a) give that sort of heavy-handed directive to a giant bureaucracy, and b) give that sort of heavy-handed directive to a giant bureaucracy tainted by Hydra. 

His brow furrowed and he bent his head with a sigh. "What would you rather we do with these _threats_?"

"Neutralize and contain, maybe" she suggested. "See, those are vague words that can mean 'eradicate', or 'incarcerate', or even plain ol' 'thwart'. They give you a lot more flexibility in your response. But eradicate really only has one meaning, and it's a short step to exterminate, and then we start sounding like Nazis or Daleks. And neither one is a great choice." 

"What the hell's a Dalek?"

"Fictional evil aliens," she clarified with a wave of her hand. "Not important. I'm changing eradicate to neutralize and contain."

It wasn't perfect, and maybe that openness would give Hydra the leeway to get away with things that more narrowly focused language would make more difficult, but at the same time, it was a damned sight better than just straight up telling them to go crush, kill, destroy. Besides, if she knew SHIELD, and she did, they really loved to make you justify everything you did. And the more vague the language governing a situation, the more detail they wanted. So, she might have to let Hydra do some shitty things in order to slow them down and make it harder to do larger, shittier things. God damn, they were a pain in the ass. 

Well, whatever way things landed, she wasn't letting Howard use the word 'eradicate'. 

"What's to stop me changing it back when you leave?" Howard asked with a cocky, obnoxious smirk. 

She returned the smirk, look for look. "The knowledge of how _very_ disappointed I'd be."

Giving her a hard look, he turned back to his work, and, smiling, she picked up the pen. 

***

"Good afternoon," Peggy greeted as Darcy opened the door. "Or, Happy Thanksgiving, I suppose."

"And Happy Thanksgiving to you, too," Darcy said, stepping back to let the other woman into the townhouse. Peggy and Angie moved back to the penthouse the previous week, and the house had been strangely quiet and a little lonely until some of the Commandos returned a couple days earlier. They couldn't all get away again so soon, but Dugan, Morita, Dernier, and Pinkerton where visiting. 

"Did you and Angie enjoy the parade?" Peggy shrugged off her coat and Darcy, playing the part of Jarvis who was directing his army in the kitchen, plucked it from her hands and neatly hung it on the coat rack. 

"We did," Darcy confirmed. It was cold, and more crowded than she expected, but it was fun. "I've never been."

"They don't do it anymore?"

"Oh, they do." Darcy offered her a smile and waved her down the hall towards the kitchen where Angie was 'helping' and Howard wasn't. 

Peggy hesitated. "Before the meal, I wondered if we might talk?" 

Pursing her lips, Darcy nodded and redirected them both towards the library. "Sure."

"Daniel sends his regrets at not being able to accept the invitation," Peggy said. "He's spending the holiday with his sister. Or one of his sisters."

"I figured," she shrugged. "Seemed polite to ask, anyway."

"It was very thoughtful. He appreciated it," Peggy murmured.

Once in the library, Darcy shut the door behind them, figuring it was _that_ sort of conversation. 

"Actually," Peggy said as she took a seat on the couch. "He got some rather exciting news."

"Did he?" Darcy asked, sitting across from her. 

"A job offer. The L.A. station needs a new chief."

"Chief? Really? Well good for him. He'll be a good one."

"I agree." Peggy gave her a thin smile.

They fell silent, and Darcy didn't think Peggy really wanted a private conversation about Daniel Sousa. Well, maybe she did. No, probably not. Not yet. Her knowledge of agency history didn't extend much into the SSR, nothing much beyond broad strokes. She knew Peggy ended up in California for a while, until she and Howard launched SHIELD, but she didn't know the hows and whys of Peggy's time on the west coast. There was a vague memory rattling around the dim corners of her head that said Sousa went out there, too, but she had no clue if it was during the SSR era or later on with SHIELD. 

"How are you and Howard doing with the device?" Peggy asked finally. "We haven't spoken much in the last couple weeks."

"We're doing pretty well. I think we're close. It's a matter of replicating the event, and so far we're being careful. Those other pieces we got _were_ helpful. They gave us some idea of output. Plus, if you know how something works, that'll give you a pretty good idea of how it can go wrong."

"Off soon, then, eh?"

"I guess so." Darcy sighed and rubbed a finger over her nose. "Howard's making some noise about me staying for Christmas."

"Do you think you might? If you're that close to going home, though …"

Darcy smiled and shrugged. "How many Christmases will I get with my grandfather?"

Peggy nodded and smiled back. "Just the one, I suppose."

It was a rough time of year for that sort of decision. Leaving. It was a time for family, and most of her family were so very far away they were a dream. But, some of them where here now, too. Jarvis, Howard, and even Peggy. As eager as she was to get home, now that control of her return was in her hands, she felt like the desperation, the pressure were off. She had all the time in the world. 

"No rush," she said with a laugh. 

"Good," Peggy said with a decisive nod. "That will mean a great deal to Howard."

"And to me."

"I've no doubt." Peggy was silent for another moment before she groaned, sounding annoyed. "This is ridiculous. We're being entirely too awkward about this. I don't blame you for not telling me about the Winter Soldier."

"I … " Darcy started but she wasn't sure what to say. It was such an ugly subject. "Thank you. I swear, I had no idea—"

"I know, I know. Never mind that now. I've had time to think it through, and I can't say I would have made a different decision where I in your shoes. Lord, what a bloody nightmare." Peggy gave her a sympathetic look. "It was always obvious that you cared deeply for your partner. I can't imagine how difficult it is for you to be here and to know what he's going to go through. I don't mean to pick at a sore subject, but it was important to me that we cleared the air before you left." 

Darcy blew out a long breath, pursing her lips, and looked away from the other woman. "I'm sorry, Peggy. I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to have to carry this, too. I didn't _ever_ want to do that to you."

"It's not such a burden, Darcy," Peggy said gently. 

"It is, though," Darcy argued, looking back at her and leaning forward in her chair. "You're going to hear things and you're going to see things. The things they make him do, Peggy." She shook her head, trying to banish that reality. It was too big for now. "It's really goddamned unfair that you'll have to see all that and know who he is."

"James Barnes was a good man," Peggy said, her voice firm. "And so he shall be remembered." 

Darcy closed her eyes, relief washing over her. She didn't think Peggy was going to tell the world, but it was nice to hear those words. It was so, so nice to hear them. "Thank you."

"I think we've known each other for a long time, Darcy. I can hold this until it's your turn again." 

Darcy nodded, thoughtfully. But then Peggy's words triggered a memory and she laughed. "Oh my God. Oh holy crap."

"What?"

"Don't judge," she warned with a mock scowl, "but when I was in college I worked for a psychic herbalist in New Orleans one summer."

Peggy's face scrunched up into an expression of disbelief and impatience. "Oh, please."

"No, no, but hear me out," Darcy said, something like real mirth bubbling up in her chest. "I don't believe that bunk. Trust me."

"Well, thank God," Peggy sniffed. 

"No, but Madame Odette, she … I don't know. Sometimes, she made me wonder. One day she told me that I'd meet somebody I knew when I was younger who wouldn't meet me until I was older. That we'd be backwards to each other." Darcy laughed until she felt her eyes start to tear up. But, finally, at last, they were tears of amusement. "Holy crap, it's you," she gasped out. "Oh man, I can't believe it. I owe Madame Odette a 'you were right' visit."

"You're unbelievable," Peggy said with a despairing roll of her eyes. "What vague rot is that?"

Darcy leaned back in the chair, sliding down against the cushions, still chuckling. When she caught her breath, she grinned unrepentantly and said, "She predicted I'd meet Thor, too. Once is a coincidence, but twice?"

"Still a coincidence," Peggy insisted, but the corners of her lips were lifting with her own amusement. 

"Ahh, doesn't matter," Darcy said with another chuckle. "I like it. I'll keep it."

Peggy shook her head, but before she could say anything, the door to the library flew open and Howard stood in the doorway. 

"What are you two doing? Sweetheart, we've got guests. You don't hide when you've got guests," he chastised. 

"Yes, Howard," she said laughing at him and making his mustache twitch. She glanced back at Peggy, and said in a low, entertained undertone, "She also said there'd be somebody I knew my whole life but I wouldn't meet them until I was older." Bouncing up out of her chair, feeling strangely lighter and unburdened for the first time in months, she darted over to Howard and took his arm. "Did you leave Jarvis alone about the gravy like I told you?"

"He was going to put too much flour in it," Howard grumbled with a perplexed look. "What's so funny?"

Peggy joined them at the door, giving them both a little shove out into the corridor. "Your granddaughter has been taken by an odd flight of fancy. Never mind her. Now, are either of you going to get your guest a drink, or does she have to hunt it down herself? This is a barbaric house."

Howard snorted and led them away. 

***

Hanukkah overlapped Christmas in 1946, and Darcy made Howard get a menorah, but she couldn't say why. Maybe she was just feeling pensive and nostalgic. She hadn't lit one since she was a little girl, not at all after her Bubbe died. Her mom had an electric one she'd put in the windows over the holiday, but mostly they did Christmas with the Lutheran Lewis clan. Tony was nominally Catholic, so she did Christmas with him, too. Sometimes if they were at Aunt Jo's over the season, they'd have latkes and her aunt would give all the kids a new dreidel and a bag of chocolate coins, but that was about as observant as the Perlmans got anymore. 

Howard wasn't observant, either. He seemed to like Christmas, though. And the tree was absurd. But, beautiful she assured him. 

The menorah sat on a windowsill in the library and shortly after sundown on Christmas Eve, Darcy retreated to the room for a little quiet before Howard's party. She lit the candle and watched the flame flicker. She couldn't remember the words of the blessing her great-grandmother would recite, but she remembered it was about the few overcoming the many. She remembered it was about miracles and redemption. She remembered it was about suffering, faith, and hope. 

Darcy watched the flame through its half-hour and thought about life. Her life. The path she'd taken willingly. The struggles she'd faced over the past year. And the triumphs. And the real and true miracle of being with her grandfather.

All the fear and pain. All the anger and hurt. They brought her closer to who she wanted to be. They helped her realize what she was and what she was meant to do. Weird to be grateful for all of that, but she was. She could stand with her father on his quest to fight the world's evil. With her hands she could rebuild the shield meant to protect the innocent. All those experiences revealed strength she never knew she had. 

And it wasn't all bad. Even today. Even here and knowing that in four days she'd leave. Howard tried to get her to stay through New Year, but if she let him do that, then next he'd try to get her to stay through St. Patrick's day, and then Easter, and who knew when it would end. It was time. It was time to say good-bye. And somehow it felt right to leave right at the end, to leave 1946 whole and complete. That one strange year, where for a few months, Darcy Lewis stepped out of time. 

Leaving would hurt, but what a gift to have today. What a gift to know Edwin Jarvis. What a gift to know Angie Martinelli. What a gift to know Dum Dum Dugan and Jim Morita and Jacques Dernier and all of the boys. What a gift to know Peggy Carter. And above all, to have the opportunity to get to know Howard and not the version from Tony's memories colored by hurt and regret, or from dull recitation of heroics and genius in a book. Now she knew him, and she loved him, and that was amazing and precious. 

"Hey, Lewis, you coming or what?" Angie called out, stepping into the library. When she saw the menorah, she paused. "Oh, sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay. I was done." Darcy smiled and extinguished the flame. "So, how many starlets does Howard have tonight?"

Angie's face changed from contrite to amazed. "I swear, I saw Anne Baxter."

"Wow. Howard's going high class." Darcy laughed and let Angie draw her out of the room. "Wait, isn't she married? We'd better stop him before he causes a scandal."

Angie snorted and tugged her more fervently towards the sounds of merriment and booze. "Doesn't he live on scandal? Wouldn't he wither away and die without it?"

"We'll have to take that risk, Ang."

"Nope, can't do it. I want to be invited to more shindigs like this one. Can't do it if he's dead." She continued to pull Darcy along, but stopped abruptly. "That's not Rita Hayworth is it?"

"The way Howard's looking at her, I think it has to be," Darcy said with a snicker. "She married or not? I can't remember."

"Who cares?" Angie asked philosophically and snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. 

***

Saturday morning Darcy woke early and wandered through the quiet house. In a few hours she'd be leaving. It was hard to sort through her feelings about that anymore. She'd been in 1946 for more than three months and it had long since stopped feeling so strange. There was no point going through how hard it would be to leave. She'd lived it enough. Now, it was rip the band-aid off time. But, that didn't mean she couldn't take a little moment to soak in a few last details and catalogue a few final memories. 

Howard had thrown a going-away dinner the previous night. Nothing big. She'd said her goodbyes to the Commandos at Thanksgiving, so the party was made up of those remaining few who'd been with her on this strange journey from the start.

Angie got teary after dinner and as she was leaving she demanded Darcy not be a stranger. Darcy just hugged her and thanked her for being a good friend. Agent Sousa shook her hand soberly and told her it was a pleasure working with her and he hoped she'd get home okay. She shook his hand in return and wished him luck in Los Angeles. 

Then the party was down to a quiet, introspective quartet. Howard said he had work to do, Jarvis said he needed to get home to his wife. Peggy insisted on staying the night. They'd be off early, she'd be back in a handful of hours anyway. 

Peggy helped Darcy pack up the few belongings she wanted to store safely. Inside her journal she tucked the handkerchief from Angie. Next went the scarf and volume of poetry from Jarvis, the necklace Howard gave her for her birthday, and the diamond and garnet earrings he gave her for Christmas. She packed away her Captain America magazine but not before, laughing, she made Peggy autograph it. Dugan's present they shared between them, warming the chill of her leaving and the cold winter evening. 

Surprisingly, Darcy slept that night. Maybe the bourbon helped. Okay, definitely the bourbon helped. But she woke clear-headed and ready. There was nothing left to do here, and so much she had to do at home. She need to rebuild SHIELD. She need to hug her father. She needed to make sure Jane was okay. She needed to see Bucky again with her own eyes and know he'd made it through the years. 

Jarvis arrived at little after seven and she lingered in the kitchen with him while he prepared breakfast. They chatted about nothing important at all. His plans for the new year and hers. Peggy turned up just before eight, and Howard stumbled in a half hour later. They ate breakfast all together for the first and only time. Howard kept trying to give Darcy directives on things she needed to do when she got home. She laughed at him. Peggy told Howard to stop being domineering, and Jarvis made little barbed asides to the conversation. 

At ten they left the house for the Stark Industries lab where the box was ready and waiting for them. 

Darcy's departure point was housed in a secure bunker room three stories below the basement, where the power conversion unit was nestled in a dubious looking tangle of wires, cords, and aluminum ducts. Dicey as it may have looked, Darcy and Howard had spent weeks going over everything, testing every single part and charting every single pulse of power, and running numbers until all she saw were numbers running through her head. There really was nothing left to do but fire it up and pray. 

Jarvis was the first with the good-byes. "Miss Lewis."

"Mr. Jarvis." He opened his arms to her and she laughed and stepped into them, hugging him tightly. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Jarvis."

"You are very welcome, Miss." He let her go and looked down, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry you didn't have the opportunity to meet Ana."

"It's okay," Darcy soothed with a pat on his arm. "Just do me a favor, huh? One day, when the time is right — and you'll know it — give her my love."

"You have my word," he said solemnly. 

"And take care of my dad," she begged him, lowering her voice so Howard wouldn't overhear. "He's got a good heart, but not everybody understands him. He'll need you."

"I will be there for him," he promised.

"I hope you'll know what you mean to our family."

"I need only remember you to know it, Miss Lewis."

She pressed her lips firmly together and blinked rapidly, trying to stem the burn of tears. "Thank you, Jarvis," she said quietly, fighting the tremor in her voice.

"Always, Miss. You are a credit to your family," he said, his formality warmed by his tone. "However it happened, be it fate or providence, I shall always treasure having had the chance to know you."

"Me, too," she whispered and gave him another tight hug. "Good-bye, Mr. Jarvis."

"Good-bye, Miss Lewis."

Darcy took a moment to compose herself before facing the last two people in the room. Howard would control the device from the other side of a shielded window, and Peggy insisted on staying as well. Howard was making a show of fiddling with wires and checking over everything, pretending to ignore the farewells. Ah, the Stark horror of emotions. She smiled at him and shook her head. 

"He'll miss you terribly. We both will," Peggy said, coming over to stand next to her. 

"I'll miss you both, too."

"Now, I know you've promised," Peggy told her, sounding almost anxious, "But you _will_ come and see me when you get back?"

"I swear."

"Good. I'll have long enough to wonder, as it is."

"Well, one of three things is going to happen," Darcy said, and began to tick them off on her fingers. "One, it works and I get home. Two, it doesn't work and I don't go anywhere. Three, it sort of works and I end up God knows where."

"Let's hope for the first option," Peggy said dryly. "You and Howard have been working on this for weeks. I have confidence you've got it right."

Darcy let out a long breath. "I guess I do, too. Otherwise we wouldn't be here today. So … wish me luck."

"I don't think you need luck."

"Say it anyway," Darcy begged, nervous butterflies were starting to take flight in her gut. She was fairly confident, but this was all such a theoretical gamble. "It'll make me feel better."

Peggy let out an exasperated breath and said, "Best of luck."

She huffed a little laugh. "It's been an honor working with you, Agent Carter."

"The honor has been mine, Agent Lewis." With a sad little smile, Peggy pulled her into a hug. "You'll do fine, Darcy. Just fine. Tell Sgt. Barnes … well, tell him I'm glad. I'm glad you have each other. And don't put off that dance with your soldier. Alright?"

"I won't. Keep an eye on Howard, would you?"

"Lord knows what he'd get up to if I didn't." Peggy stepped back and glanced over at Howard. "I'll leave you two alone. Good-bye for now."

"Bye, Peggy. Thank you."

Peggy nodded and stepped out of the room. 

Finally it was just Darcy and her grandfather. Their very last moment together. She watched him continue to fiddle, let him do what he needed to do, even in the heavy silence. Oh, God, this really, really did hurt. But she'd had him for a little while. More than she'd ever imagined was possible. And that was the thought that made her smile. 

"Howard, you've checked that connection five times," she said gently. 

"Just gotta make sure everything's right," he muttered. 

"It's as right as it's going to get," she said. "It's time, Howard."

His shoulders rose and fell on a sigh and he turned, a smile pasted on his face. "I guess it is. Well, you ready, sweetheart?"

"As I'll ever be," she told him honestly. 

"It'll work," he promised. 

For a minute, they stood facing each other, Darcy watching him, memorizing him alive and real before her, while Howard chewed on his mustache, probably doing the same thing. 

"Okay, so, you'll stand here." He pointed to a taped-off square of floor next to the box. "I'll engage the device, and with the containment breach the Tesseract energy will tangle you up again, and bam, you'll be back to where you started. Now, we did the math, so I figure at most you'll have been gone for a few seconds." 

"Yep," Darcy said. They'd gone over this a hundred times.

"Will there be somebody there?" he demanded with a frown. "I know you said the Hydra soldiers ran, but your trip here was pretty rough. I don't like the thought of leaving you vulnerable there."

"My dad is in the building. I know he'll be on his way before I even get back," she told him with a small smile. "And my friend Jane is there, too. I told her to run, and since she wasn't found with me, I'm sure she was outside the danger zone. I'll be okay, Howard. I promise." 

"Good, good. Right, okay." He rocked on his heels and glanced back at the box. "Better take off your glasses. Can't trust the glass won't break."

Darcy did as he suggested, putting them on a work bench. "I left a box in my room, all the things I want to keep."

"I'll make sure you get it." He forced a smile. "Well, let's do this, huh?"

"Howard—"

"Stand over there." He pointed again and started for the door. 

"Howard, wait." Darcy reached out and grabbed his arm as he passed. "I know Starks better than anything, we all get weird about this stuff. But, I'm going to say this and you're going to listen." 

"Sure." He turned to face her.

"I love you. Don't forget that."

"Never, sweetheart."

"Good." She didn't expect an 'I love you' back. That wasn't something he did easily, or naturally, but he'd shown it in everything he'd done for her every day she'd been with him. Still, it would have been nice. But, she understood too well. Here at the end, there was so much she wanted to say and so much she couldn't. "I'll try and do you proud."

"You don't have to try, you've already done it," he said seriously. Then his lips quirked up in a smirk. "I'm gonna put that clause about partners in the regs, though."

Darcy laughed and pulled him into a hug. "Jackass."

He patted her back. "Is that any way to talk to your grandpa?"

"It's the only way."

He hesitated for a moment, then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Go stand over there. It's time for you to go home."

Darcy fought back her nervous nausea and stood in the square, turning to face the window. She couldn't see through it, but she knew Howard and Peggy where there. Taking a deep breath, Darcy gave a firm nod. "I'm ready."

"In five," Howard's voice crackled over the intercom. "Four … three … two … good-bye, sweetheart."

With a hiss and a pop, white-blue light began to leak out of the box. Darcy braced herself. "Good-bye."

The tendrils of light climbed up her legs and her world went white.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all! I hope you've enjoyed this.
> 
> Since I've posted the last two chapters together, a reminder - **don't forget to read chapter 12!**

Peggy Carter was not the sort to fidget. After 80 years on this Earth, she had faced harrowing situation after harrowing situation without flinching. She'd spent more days than she could count surveilling suspects without complaint. She'd been held by villains and madmen without blinking. She'd endured more congressional hearings than any person ought to. And she liked to think she did it all with some degree of confidence and grace. 

And for all that, here she was, waiting for a twelve-year old girl, fidgeting. Darcy would laugh at her. Ah, but Darcy wouldn't even know her yet. Lord, time travel was twisty. She'd long ago developed an appreciation for what Darcy had gone through all those years ago and thirteen years from now. Bloody Nora. 

Late in the spring Tony called and said he was bringing Darcy out during her summer holidays. At long bloody last. Unfortunately, the trip was delayed for some weeks when the poor girl went down with appendicitis. But, hale and hearty now, the Starks were on their way. 

Casting her eyes around the room somewhat compulsively, she checked that the pitcher of lemonade and plate of biscuits were still where she'd set them. Though — and she narrowed her eyes — the neat pile of biscuits was now lopsided. When had Sharon nicked them? That girl. Far too sneaky. Peggy's lips quirked up. She'd be an excellent agent. Would she and Darcy work together in SHIELD? Darcy never gave any indication that she'd known Sharon. But, Darcy was very good at saying a great deal while saying not much at all. And she'd never said one single word about Peggy's family.

Sharon was staying for the summer, but was out with friends now; having recently acquired her driver's license, it was difficult to get her to stop in one place for long. But, she promised to be back in time for dinner with their guests. Peggy was intensely curious at how the two girls would get along. Like a house afire, she hoped. Peggy wouldn't be around forever, and it was a comforting thought that perhaps her grandniece and Howard's granddaughter could continue the partnership she and Howard had enjoyed. A sense of continuity in a chaotic world. Though, at this age, the four year gap between 12 and 16 was more of a chasm. But, someday, perhaps. 

Next her gaze fell on the trio of scrapbooks. Two of them held photographs of Howard and the Commandos through the years, and the other photographs of Tony as he grew. Peggy had so very many stories to tell. While waiting for the Starks to travel east, she spent the months refreshing her memory, going through her personal journals and letters. She chose some of the more embarrassing tales, certain those would be the ones Darcy would enjoy the most. 

Peggy drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and looked out towards the front windows. 

This was so very odd. She was anxious to see her friend again after so many years, but this girl was not her friend yet. Even now she had no idea if Darcy got back to her own time. And she'd have to wait even longer still for the answer to that question. Peggy could only pray. At least she'd get the answer. Darcy promised her that much. Howard went to his grave never knowing. 

Closing her eyes, Peggy breathed out a soft sigh. Oh, _Howard_. He'd suspected he'd never see Darcy again. It was plain on his face when he said good-bye to his granddaughter. Then he'd thrown himself into a ridiculous spiral of hedonism to try to ease that pain. It worked to a degree, she supposed, and he didn't mention her again until the day Tony was born. 

However, Peggy'd always known he wouldn't live to see his granddaughter again. For over forty years she'd been able to set aside that knowledge, but when Tony grew to manhood, the years collapsed around her. The future very suddenly became the present. The thought was unavoidable — 'when would it happen?' Even with the forewarning, she hadn't been prepared for that phone call. The terrible call that told her her oldest friend had been killed in a car accident with his wife. Tony numbed his grief much as Howard had done before him — with alcohol and women. Peggy did what she could, but his pain and hurt ran deeper than she could mend. 

By Peggy's calculations, Darcy was born a little less than two years after Howard's death. Still, it was another year before Tony mustered up the courage to tell her he had a daughter. By the quiet hesitance in his voice when he phoned, she knew he was bracing himself for a lecture on his carelessness, but Peggy had no intention of lecturing. She was, in fact, relieved, and not just because Darcy would be and was her friend. Peggy was so very fond of Tony, and she hoped this little girl would be his saving grace. He deserved some joy in his life, he deserved family and the unconditional love of a child. 

Still, he'd waited and waited, making _her_ wait and wait. She wanted to shout at him a time or two, but he was so terribly afraid of turning into a father like Howard he stayed away from his young daughter. Her impatience would not have been a benefit. Tony wouldn't believe it if she told him, but he was far more tender-hearted than his father, a far more sensitive soul. She didn't need to know Darcy, or to remember how often and warmly she spoke of him, to know that Tony would be a good father. When he let himself, he'd be wonderful. 

Finally, after almost too long by Peggy's reckoning, he allowed himself to meet his daughter. The curiosity got to be too much, she supposed. And perhaps the guilt. Why he felt he had to shoulder his father's burdens, she'd never truly know. But after that first meeting, each of his infrequent phone calls was filled with stories of his tiny, brilliant accomplice. There was true pride and happiness in his voice. And at last the world felt right. 

Except for one thing: Peggy wanted to meet this little girl. She wanted to see Darcy before the weight of a life in SHIELD settled on her shoulders. Peggy wanted to see what her eyes looked like unburdened by the painful choices she had to make in 1946. A little girl free of Hydra, and Norse gods, and the duty and responsibility of inheriting an intelligence agency. A little girl with her whole life ahead of her. 

A car door slammed, and then another. Peggy stood up and smoothed her skirt, ignoring the flutter of excitement in her stomach, but her lips pulled up into a smile. She tried to marshal them into something more neutral, but they wouldn't listen. She laughed at herself. 

Halfway to the door the bell rang. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and raised an eyebrow at Tony. He cleared his throat and looked nervous. As though Peggy was going to dislike his daughter? Oh, that boy. 

Pushing open the screen door, Peggy held out her arms. "Anthony, it's very good to see you."

"Peg," he murmured and gave her a quick, awkward hug. "You look good."

Peering into his face, making a quick evaluation of his health — somebody had to look after the boy, after all — she tapped his cheek and said, "You look pale. You're working too hard again, aren't you?"

Tony rolled his eyes and gave her an exasperated grunt. "I'm fine. Don't nanny."

Peggy narrowed her eyes. "You took your time, you know?"

"Traffic."

"That's not what I meant," she chastised lightly, and tweaked his chin. "Now …" Peggy turned and looked down at Darcy and her breath caught. There she was after so many years, her eyes alight with curiosity and bold as ever. Lord, she looked so much like her father had at that age. Darcy couldn't possibly be anything other than a Stark. How had it taken her so long to see the resemblance to Howard?

"Peggy, this is my daughter Darcy," Tony introduced, recalling the manners Edwin Jarvis had spent years trying desperately to instill. The results were somewhat mixed, but nobody could fault that dear man's efforts. "Kid, this is Peggy Carter."

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," Darcy said and stuck out her hand. 

Peggy pressed her lips together against a sudden trembling. "I've waited such a long time. It's so wonderful to see you, my friend." Taking a deep breath, she shook Darcy's hand, then turned to Tony and patted his shoulder. "Now, I believe you have a meeting and Darcy and I need some girl time. You can come back for dinner."

He looked mulish, petulant at being dismissed, and muttered, "Gee, can I?"

"Don't be smart, Anthony. I've a plate of cookies, a hundred photographs of you in diapers, and an entire afternoon of embarrassing stories to tell." She smiled at Darcy. "How does that sound?"

Darcy looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "Sounds pretty good."

Tony narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "Those stories ever get out, I'm disinheriting you."

She rolled her eyes and whacked him lightly on the side with the back of her hand. "You always say that."

"This time I mean it," he grumbled. 

"Sure. Okay," she shrugged, unbothered by the threat. "Mom and Pepper say I have an insurance policy, though." Darcy looked up at Peggy and lifted the strap of her backpack. "I've got pictures, too. Wanna see?"

Peggy smirked. "I'd love nothing more." Tony groaned but Peggy could see the amusement he tried to hide. Stepping out of the doorway, she gestured for Darcy to enter. "Why don't you go inside and help yourself to a cookie. I'd like to speak to your father for a moment. Just to the right there."

Darcy waved goodbye to Tony and stepped into the house, her head turning to look at everything as she made her way to the living room. She stopped at several photographs on the wall and stared for a moment at one in particular. Peggy with the Commandos before they lost Steve and Sgt. Barnes. The only photograph of all of them together. 

"You knew Captain America?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes, my dear," Peggy said. "He was a very good friend of mine. I've got more pictures."

"Cool. Is that Bucky Barnes?" She pointed to the man on Steve's left. 

Peggy's throat tightened. Twelve years from now this little girl would meet the Winter Soldier. After everything she'd seen, every assassination, every bombing, each and every one of the bloody horrors he left behind, the reality of their meeting was enough to give Peggy nightmares. And yet, for over fifty years she kept his secret from the rest of the world. She kept it for Steve, for his dearest friend. And she kept it for Darcy, for the other woman's desperation to get back to her partner, and on her promise that one day Sgt. Barnes would come home. Somehow, in twelve years, Darcy Lewis would reach out to the Winter Soldier and find the man Hydra spent so many decades trying to destroy. 

With a warm smile, Peggy nodded. "It is."

Darcy just hummed and proceeded into the living room. 

Peggy closed her eyes for a moment then turned back to Tony and gave him a fond smile. He was watching her with a mixture of expectation and wariness. "She's beautiful, Anthony."

"Yeah, yeah, she is," he said, tilting his chin up arrogantly, but a smile teased the corners of his lips. "She's great. Smart. Obnoxious. Never shuts up."

"So, a Stark then?" Peggy asked, laughing. 

He gave her a crooked smile, then his eyes darted away from her to stare at a flower pot. "Best thing I've ever made."

"I'm terribly proud of you."

Squinting, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Really?"

"Really." She took his face in her hands and turned his head to look at her. "I know you were afraid, but you made the right decision to be in her life. I've only just met her, but she seems to me a happy little girl who is lucky enough to have a wonderful, doting father. Yes, I'm terribly proud of you." 

"Yeah, good. Thanks." He licked his lips. "Would dad …"

"Howard would have adored her," Peggy said, cutting into his doubts. Howard had done poorly by his son, and they'd never have the opportunity to fix that relationship. But, perhaps someday he'd get the full story. Darcy would tell him, and he'd have the comfort of truly knowing how much Howard loved his granddaughter. 

Tony looked skeptical and Peggy let him go so his gaze could wander away from her again. "He was never happy with anything I did."

"That's not true," she told him quietly, but this was a reserve of hurt she could never ease. "And whatever he might have said, after he realized he had a lively, lovely granddaughter to spoil rotten, he would have been quite in love. Trust me, sweet boy."

Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he nodded. "Good. Right. So, you two will be okay together for an afternoon?"

"I'm neither senile nor bed-ridden," she huffed. "And I've managed to raise several children, you know. I think Darcy and I will be fine."

"Okay." He started to step away but paused and looked back toward the living room. "If you need—"

"I've your number if there's a problem," she assured him, smiling at his concern. Yes, a doting father indeed. "Don't you have a meeting to get to?"

He frowned sourly and sighed. "Yeah, okay. But, I like cookies, too. I could—"

Peggy laughed and waved him off, stepping back into her house. "Go to your meeting. You can have a cookie after dinner."

Darcy was settled on the couch, one of the scrapbooks open on her lap, and she flipped through the pages. Peggy watched her for a moment. There was so much to come for her. So many things she would do. This little girl would be a brave and resourceful agent, and SHIELD would be lucky to have her. The future, even the parts Peggy knew, was still wide open for her. Peggy couldn't prepare her for what was to come, but she could prepare her for the past they would share together. 

"Whose embarrassing stories would you like to start with?" Peggy asked, sitting down next to Darcy and leaning forward to pour them both a lemonade. "Perhaps you'd like to hear how I met your grandfather?"

"Sure," Darcy said and slid the book over to Peggy. "And maybe the Commandos?"

"Oh yes," Peggy said seriously. "I will tell you _all_ about them."

"My brother likes to play Dum Dum Dugan," she offered. 

"Does he indeed? A fine choice. Dugan was as stalwart and loyal a friend as you could ever hope to have. Though, he had a terrible sense of humor. Truly awful." Peggy laughed and gave Darcy a considering look, a little secret smile on her lips. "And, I bet you like to play Captain America."

"I'm too old for that," Darcy said and looked down at the scrapbook, open to a photograph of Captain America during his first USO tour. 

"That's too bad."

"I mean, sometimes I still play," she admitted with nonchalance. "For my little brother Sam." 

"Well, you're a good older sister then, aren't you?"

"I try."

Peggy gave the girl a very serious nod. "That's the secret, isn't it? To always try."

Darcy considered that and returned Peggy's nod, then pointed at a picture. "Is that Howard?"

"It is, indeed. I met your grandfather in New York in 1942 …"

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART for Bid Time Return](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754383) by [Liondragon (Sameshima_Shuzumi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sameshima_Shuzumi/pseuds/Liondragon)
  * [[Podfic] Bid Time Return](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935862) by [10scheherazade01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/10scheherazade01/pseuds/10scheherazade01)




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